Walpurgis Nacht
by DaftPenguinofDoom
Summary: Minerva and Albus are captured and must deal with the outcome. Readers be warned, it is tremendously dark. I would put up a bunch of warnings, but I feel they are unnecessary. Basically, if you don't like stories with dark themes, don't read. MMAD.
1. Tourture and Rape

"Your wife is about to become very, very dead, Albus. I'm not going to say a long idiotic monologue about how I'm going to rule the world, I'm just going to do it. Now. I am a very orderly person, and I enjoy order as much as a good scream. So, fortunately for you, your death will be an orderly one. A nice shot in the head. Your dear wife however, see, this is when I get truly sadistic, when I have a lovely woman to kill and a will to destroy, your wife will die very slowly and in much agony. Unless… well… you want to cooperate with those names…"

"No!" he gasped, "torture me, please! Not her!"

"What? I could have sworn you told me to torture you. I will, see… this is torture… some people just don't know it when they see it…"

"My God, no! Please!"

"Please what?"

"Don't"

"I told you how to save your wife the pain and you a shot in the head, Albus. All I need is twenty names or so… Why, ten might even spare her life. And you see, they simply have to be legitimate."

"Why don't you just use a truth potion?"

"My dear Albus, Where's the fun in that? Besides, I have full confidence I'll get what I want by the end of the evening. Now, all I need is twenty names… start talking and I'll stop."

She was in the next room. She couldn't hear any of this. She couldn't see him at all. All she could see was her reflection in the mirror. All the mirrors. Her reflection repeated into oblivion. A door slipped open. A man, a grin with sharp fangs. A clawed hand.

"Hello, my dear Minerva, how are you this evening."

She shivered in the cold and did not return his cruel questioning gaze.

"Cold? Awwww… that's rather unfortunate. It is a bit chilly in here isn't it? But then you see, I like the cold."

As he spoke, the air grew icier.

"You understand, I grew up in the cold, in the forest, in the winter."

Her teeth chattered.

Albus watched, horrified as the fanged man circled his wife. She was shivering violently. What could he do? If he spoke, he knew that anyone he named would be dead before he had finished naming the full twenty. But then again, so might she.

"When I was growing up… I never had clothes, see? So it was all the colder."

Her dress slowly started to disappear, starting at the shoulders. The fanged man looked towards the mirror that Albus was behind, but she didn't notice as she was watching terrified, her clothing disappear to the waist, leaving only her barest of undergarments.

"No! Please!"

He chuckled.

"Maybe you'll talk, your husband didn't, you see and that's why you're here."

"No! I… I don't know any names!"

"And I can see that you're lying."

"I … I don't!"

"We'll see, won't we?"

She could see her breath and her tears were beginning to freeze on her face. But her clothes continued to disappear.

Maybe if he could escape. He twisted his hands in their confines. No use, it was all metal.

"See… now what would you say," he said when her clothes had completely gone leaving her only in her undergarments, "If I put my hand here."

No! No! She doesn't know anything! He wanted to scream, but the man already knew that. She doesn't know… she doesn't know… stop… please…

"Stop! Please stop!"

"Do you really want me to?"

"Yes,"

"A name!"

"No!"

"Then what would happen… if I moved my hand farther up…"

She caught the screech that started in her throat.

"That's what I thought. A name then,"

"No!" She gasped.

"You know. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were enjoying this,"

Fresh tears sprang to her eyes. A choked sob came from her mouth.

"Arms up!"

He waved his wand and her arms rose in the charmed chains she wore. He pulled out a blade and tapped it a few times against her white stomach.

He was crying now, sobbing really. If he said stop, he'd be expected to continue with the names. If he didn't, it would only be worse on her.

"Let's warm up that cold skin of yours, shall we?"

He pressed the knife down until a blood red pearl formed on her perfect skin. He drew it slowly up across her belly. Warmth began to trickle in small beads down her stomach forming a red line with vertical rivulets.

"Come on then, that didn't hurt all that much did it? A name please, and it will all stop."

All she could do was sob.

"Look at me then,"

He face was forced to turn towards him by some unseen power.

"I know a way that we can warm you up very quickly. In fact, it will make you quite hot. Exhausted, really,"

"No," she whispered, "Don't!"

"No?" he said licking her shoulder blade, "Why not pet?"

"Please!"

"Has anyone ever told you how breath-taking you are?"

"No!"

"Never? Not even your dear husband?" he sucked harder causing her skin to purple.

"No please stop!"

"Why? Give me a reason,"

"I don't know anything,"

"Of course you don't, I know that."

"No!"

He pulled off her undergarments slowly.

"Are you cold pet? I'm warm, very warm,"

He let out a struggled yell. No! No! He couldn't! This was his wife! HIS WIFE. He was powerless to stop the nightmare before him. He struggled against his bonds again and again, but they all held fast. Twenty names, twenty deaths. Twenty deaths for two. Two tortured deaths.

He pulled the knife down to her inner thigh and pressed again, hot blood forming there.

She screamed as he tortured her with his body.

"Now, angel," he said when he got his breath back, "are you ready to cooperate?"

She just sobbed.

"Now, my dear, the real pain begins," he lifted his knife and she gaped as it grew jagged at its edges.

A/N: Oh dear, I have a very, very dark imagination. Well… this is M. Don't flame me. It gets better, I promise.


	2. News

She was just able to walk again.

She looked at him. If this was as she thought it was, it would tear him apart as much as it tore her apart.

He looked up at her standing in the doorway to his study. The look in her eyes as she gazed at him broke his heart as it had when… he pushed the memory from his mind. But he couldn't. The images refreshed themselves as clear as the night it happened.

"Albus, there's something wrong," she said softly. It looked as if she had been crying for a long time and was on the verge of crying again. She had a handkerchief in her hands and was folding it and unfolding it and folding it again.

"What is it, Minerva?" he said setting down his pen and gazing at her, concerned.

"I… went to see Poppy today," she said biting her lip.

"Yes?" he said, for visiting Poppy was not unusual for his wife.

"She said I should see our doctor," she said with the same nervous softness.

He sensed danger.

"Why? You've been to the doctor many times in the past month. Have you hurt yourself?" he said rising to stand in front of her, but she turned her head and would not look at him.

How could she? How could she tell him?

"I…" she looked down at her hand and began to play with her ring. He loved her, she remembered, but he might not anymore, not after she said what she was about to say. She gathered her will.

"I'm… pregnant, Albus," she said almost too softly for him to hear.

Albus grew cold suddenly. It felt like someone had hit him hard in the stomach.

There were tears in her eyes when she looked up, "I… I don't know what to do."

There was a knot in his throat that he could not seem to swallow. What could he say to her? He gathered her into his arms. She resisted as he did. He was not surprised. She had been fighting against his touch since they had returned from the battle. He understood but still felt a deep pain when she did. She finally succeeded in pushing away from him and stood at arms' length from him. She looked away from him, shaking, tears falling readily.

"What do I do, Albus?" she said, choked with sobs.

He was silent. Tears pushed themselves from his eyes.

"Is it possible…" he began.

"No, there's no mistake," Minerva said shaking her head.

"Could it be…?"

"Could it be yours?" she said with a bitter laugh, still looking away. She shook her head again, "Not likely. We hadn't before. There was no time, not for several months at least before…" she trailed off but then shook her head and added somewhat harshly, though perhaps not meaning to be, "And certainly not after."

Her tone cut him deeply. Each word laced with disdain and yet so full of pain. Each word cut like a knife. He could see her bleeding soul. It had been torn open by the unspeakable actions of that fateful night and had not stopped bleeding since. Now a new cut sliced deep, this one perhaps the deepest of all.

"What do you want to do, Minerva?" he said trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.

How could she tell him how she felt? She deserved this, she reasoned, she even might have been able to stop it from happening. She was trying to push him away, she decided. Yes, that was it. She was trying to push him away. She didn't deserve to have him or even love him. He deserved someone better, not damaged or defiled. This would do it. This would finally push him away. This way, it wouldn't hurt so much. Losing him would be her fault, not his and he needn't feel guilty or bad about it, and neither should she, after all, it was her decision, she _wanted_ him to go, she lied to herself. But why does it hurt so badly then?

She didn't know what to do. Her mind told her to get rid of _it._ But somewhere in her heart told her that _it_ wasn't just an object to be rid of, but it was part of her, part of _him_ also, she cringed, but part of her.

"I don't know," she said numbly.

"Do you want me to be part of this decision?"

"I…I…" she was choking again. Wasn't he always a part of her decisions before? What had happened? Where did she go wrong? She was pushing him away. Pushing him away. Away. Why was her life falling apart? Where was the order that she was so accustomed to? Order. Order. No more.

"I need to think," she finally answered, turning quickly.

He watched sadly as she retreated to their bedroom that they had not shared since they had left from England nearly a year ago.

(A/N: If anyone is following this story in conjunction with MMAD MMAD World, yes, it actually does work if we assume that wizards live, on average, into their hundreds (which many people do, but it is not the average age of death which is about 68 or so world wide). We'll be generous and say 120 _on average_ (considering that Voldemort was the fun age of 71½ at his death according to the timeline set for us, through much piecing together, by JK Rowling). Because of these added years, wizards and witches age much slower than the average muggle. This makes Minerva (although in her fifties) appear to be in her early thirties or possibly late twenties. And yes, if you haven't already figured it out, I'm playing with the chronology of this story)


	3. Failures and Victors

Of course, she didn't know. They all used code names. It had been Albus' idea. Their faces and voices were all disguised by magic. It was not, of course out of shame, but a security measure and it would, in theory, keep everyone safe. He knew though. He was the one and only person who knew every person in the group by their real names.

They kept contact by way of a muggle-like contraption called radio but it didn't work by electricity and it was further developed than the muggle radio of the time. The radio waves were untraceable by magic or by other radio and would work in any weather anywhere. Albus had invented them and didn't have a name for them. He simply called them by their muggle name, radio.

Unfortunately and naturally, his radio had been confiscated upon his discovery in the tunnels of Walpurgis as had Minerva's. If only he could get to one… but no, chances were that Grindelwald's Knights were already examining them and had possibly even figured out how they worked although Albus hoped with all his heart that they hadn't as the entire Order's safety depended on it. His thoughts were disturbed by another scream from his wife.

Grindelwald was knelt in front of her and was doing something at her knees. He couldn't see what the monster was doing to her but the look in her eyes was one of complete agony. When he rose, there was blood running from the back of her legs.

Her screaming stopped mid-scream and her head rolled on her shoulders. Albus was sure that he had killed her.

"Minerva, darling!"

"Minerva, darling," said Grindelwald, half to himself, half-mockingly, "So weak. So frail. Ah, ah, ah, darling," he said looking up, "we mustn't faint, must we dear, it shows signs of weakness. And we certainly mustn't be weak, must we? _Revenerate!_"

And her head rose and grimaced, gasping in pain. Her chest heaved. She had begun to hyperventilate.

"_Pacify_," said Grindelwald and her breathing calmed but tears continued to stream, "Now you can't run away from me… not that you would, of course."

Suddenly, one of the mirrors opened in the wall opposite Albus' view.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to disturb me when I'm playing with my toys?" Grindelwald growled.

"Many apologies, mein Führer, I had not realized…"

He sighed, "Well, what is it then?"

"The sun has set,"

"Perfect," he smiled a terrible smile, "are all things in order!"

"Oh yes, sir,"

"Perfect, perfect, perfect," his smile growing more terrible by the minute, "Well then my dear Minerva, we have a festival to attend, and we wouldn't want to miss it, would we?"

He turned to the Knight.

"Unchain this woman and bring her with you. Be gentle please, she's had a rough day. Oh and her husband is in the next room. Bind him and have him brought also. We wouldn't want him to miss this either," with that, the dark wizard turned and left through the open panel.

The Knight reached up to unchain her hands. As soon as one hand was loose, she swung at him, but missed. The Knight just laughed, foolish woman. But, for Albus, it was a sign of hope.

"She still has life left in her," he thought.

When the Knight unchained her other arm, she swung that too, but with nothing holding her up, she fell.

"Get up, then," the Knight said to her in a thick German accent.

"I… I can't," she said from the floor.

Albus could finally see the backs of her legs. It was true. She couldn't get up. Two incisions had been made at the base of her calves. Her ligaments had been cut. Try as she might, there was no physical way she could stand.

"_Congealus,_" the Knight said sharply and the wounds scabbed over. He pushed her so she was balanced on her knees. Her lip bled from the fall.

"I don't think you will be walking soon," he said, kneeling with a strange smile on his face.

"Go to hell," she said miserably before swinging at him again, which he dodged, laughing again.

"Tsk, tsk, meine Liebe, you shouldn't do that; you will be tired. You have one long night in front of you," he said with false sympathy. He sighed heavily, "You will not come easily then."

He took out a cloth and, out of her reach, poured something out of a bottle onto it. Reaching forward, he held it tightly over her mouth and nose. She struggled against him, trying to turn her head and digging her nails into his skin. He grimaced and swore but forced it her harder. Soon, her arms fell limp at her sides. He hoisted her, naked, onto his shoulder and carried her out of her cell.

Soon, his cell filled with mist and his own consciousness faded in a cloud of fog.

(A/N: So... basically... all you have to do is review.)


	4. Broken

An hour or so later, Albus knocked on her door.

"Go away," came the miserable reply.

He tried the knob, it was unlocked. He opened the door a crack.

"Minerva?"

She was in bed. Her black hair fell across her face which was once again tear stained and blotchy red. In her hand, she clutched her kerchief now crumpled. Her chest shuddered slightly with a deep sob but she didn't say anything.

He proceeded cautiously into the room and sat on the bed on the far end of her. He had not been in the room since removing his things to the room down the hall.

He noticed that the room she kept unnaturally neat was in disarray. What had happened to the Minerva he knew? Her spirit had been broken. And so had his. He didn't know how to fight for her anymore. He didn't seem to have the ability anymore. He had lost that when he had failed protect her.

They were married still, but complete strangers. They ate together in silence. They lived together, but not in the same room although it might as well have been in different houses. She lived in their room and informed him when she was going out but insisted that she go alone. He didn't argue with her. He let her go. He sent Fawkes to follow her at a distance to make sure she was safe. Minerva must have known, but she never said anything. He stayed in his study, trying to deal with his own demons.

It had been easier to live with himself when she was still his. But he had lost her and with that, his companion. His guilty conscience plagued him about a million things that he thought he could have done differently to perhaps change things. A million different scenarios repeated themselves within his mind, to no avail. The people who were dead remained dead, his failures remained his failures, and they, as husband and wife, remained broken.

"Minerva," he whispered, heartbroken.

"What am I to do?" she whispered back through tears.

"I don't know," he said softly.

"I… I have to keep it Albus. I have to. It's…it's a child, Albus, I can't just throw away my child, however small it may be. I just can't," she said miserably, fighting her own torn conscience.

"I know," said Albus, understandingly.

"Oh, but Albus," she cried quietly, "I don't think I can do this. This is mine, but it is his also. _His! _I still feel his hands… and the scars… Albus. Albus," she moaned softly, "I'm dying inside. I'm dying… I must be. My heart feels like it's being torn from my chest, every second of the day."

"I know, I know, love," he said through his own tears, "Mine is too,"

He reached for her, but she moved away from him to the edge of the bed.

Please, please, go away! she thought sadly, you don't need this. You don't need me. Please, please, please, leave me.

"I'm not him, Minerva, I'm not Gellert. I won't hurt you," he said sorrowfully.

"He still does, everyday," she said moving her hand to her side.

"But I'm not him!" Albus protested.

She inhaled sharply, "I know, I just wish I could tell my heart that."

This was not going anywhere. He felt she had shown him a glimpse into her heart but had shut the box up quickly, lest he damage the shattered pieces. He was grateful for the glimpse but it hurt for he was so used to seeing it whole and gazing at it for hours on end.

"Minerva, darling…"

"Go away, Albus, I need to think," she said for the second time that evening.

He sighed heavily and rose, "I will see you in the morning?" His last comment was in fact a question as he was never sure when he would see his wife next.

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head, "I need to go to the doctor."

"I will come with you," he said almost timidly.

She shook her head again, "That won't be necessary. I can go alone."

"No, Minerva, I will come with you," he said with finality.

"No, Albus, don't. I don't need you to follow me everywhere. Lord knows this is trying enough as it is," she said stubbornly. Closing up. She was still closing up.

"Which is why I need to go with you," he said growing tired of the calluses that his wife donned.

"_No,_ Albus," she said more firmly, her eyes growing almost malicious.

"Minerva, you need this. You need me. I need you. Please, let me come with you," he begged, smoothing out the harshness in his voice.

"Leave me alone," the harshness melting in her voice too.

He gave up, he was tired of arguing with her, which is what seemed to be most of their interactions nowadays "Fine. Fine Minerva, I'll 'leave you alone.' But I am coming with you, whether you want me to or not."

She conceded, "Fine, Albus, do whatever you want. I don't care anymore."

Sure you don't, he thought bitterly. But his eyes went back to the figure on the bed. She lay back on the pillows and gazed out of the dark windows, absent-mindedly rubbing the flat stomach that had not begun to show. Silent tears were flowing again. His heart throbbed.

"I love you, Minerva," he whispered as he shut the door, not catching her look of surprise that met the shut door.

(A/N: People appear to be confused. This story, if you have not already figured it out, is done in half-flash backs, half "actual-time" although later on, that will probably change too. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to figure out how it all fits together. It is horror in a sense. Half of it is horror/angst/adventure(of sorts). Half of it is romance/drama. But since this sight does not allow us a half dozen category options, I chose the two I felt best fit. Perhaps I'm naïve and what I think is horrifying is merely child's play, but in which case, that is not my problem. There will be more dark parts to come for those of you who like darkness and more drama for those of you who like deep drama. Cheers. Review.)


	5. Festivities and Fury

Minerva awoke out of her mist. A crowd of thousands swam before her, a mighty ocean of wizards, witches and dark magical creatures of all kinds feeding into the chaos before her. She realized that she was on a high platform. A swath of deep red silk covered her broken body. It was all that separated her from the chill night air. Her hands were chained and kept her painfully up on her knees. Her vision was still blurred as she watched a tall blonde man approach the scaffold and raise his hands high above him. The crowd silenced immediately.

"Welcome, My dear people! Tonight is the beginning of a new season!" roared his magically amplified voice over the crowd, "Tonight! Walpurgis Nacht! Upon the Brocken Mountain! The place where our kind has met for thousand of years! The night enchanted with all powers of deep and forbidden magic. Tonight, we will rule! Even as we speak, the muggle ruler, under my spell and complete command shall end his life, and his comrades shall follow. His death is our victory!"

Albus watched from a shorter scaffold far in the back of the gathering.

"Are you watching muggle-lover?" said the guard into his ear, "Are you watching? That is your little woman up there," he said pointing towards the figure in red, "She's going to die soon, you know, just like the Muggle bastard."

"For his death," continued the voice, "means the end of muggle supremacy. With his death, a new rule shall rise! The half-bloods have been eliminated under the name 'gypsies'. I have fed his personal wishes with the execution of the Jews, with such a large population exterminated, the others shall be easy to subdue. They have spelled their own defeat with their own blood. The lips of victory are thirsty and shall be quenched!"

"Death awaits you too, muggle-lover," said the guard, enjoying his power.

"Tonight, we summon the dead to rise! We summon the Prince of Darkness and all the powers of Hell to join in our victory!"

With this, the crowd let out a blood-thirsty roar. It pulsed with hate and fury.

When the crowd was once again tamed, the fanged man continued, "Here, we have before us, as a demonstration of the powers that lie within, a traitor of the blood that runs deep within our veins."

The crowd booed and snarled like a great beast. It seemed to have a life of its own. It moved, shuddered and danced as one boiling mass. Shadows loomed in the flickering of the torches that flared in the early night. It seemed as if Death himself was wandering amongst the thousands waiting to devour more victims.

He must, he must escape from these bonds. They were metal and they cut hard against his wrists. The crowd became blurry. The figure in red, the figure in red. The figure sharpened. He could see her so clearly. Her waist long hair covered her face, but her piercing green eyes looked skyward. He did too, longing to see what his lover saw, perhaps to feel close to her for the last time. Venus shown bright in the evening sky.

"The dark shall arise! Blood of the guilty shall be spilled to salve the wounds of the innocent of the crime of justice! Justice that for so many years has oppressed us forcing us to live in the wilderness, to be outcasts, to be hated and despised for fear of our power. No more! No more shall we hide under the wraps of oppression. We shall rise with the morning light! With the dawn, no church bells shall toll! A red sun shall rise!"

The raging battle cry from the swarming crowd was deafening. The ground trembled.

Venus, the goddess of love, looking down on the goddess of wisdom, about to be sacrificed to Hades.

Grindelwald turned towards her, "Your death is soon. No killing curse shall be used on you, harlot."

He spat on her, "That would be too good for your blood. We must empty you of your traitorous blood. Did you not feel the ground tremble in the anticipation of our offering? It is thirsty, the blood of the millions of muggles was not enough. It demands purity. It demands a traitor to satisfy its lust."

He grabbed her throat, "And just as you have satisfied my lusts," he said pulling her as high up on her knees as she could go, "You will satisfy its."

The goddess of wisdom. The goddess of love. Love, Love. The ground trembled again. A streak of light shattered the night sky.

"The heavens weep for you, Minerva," he whispered.

Millions of lives. Millions of lives lost, buried, nameless in the cold ground, choked, not by flesh charring flame, not by gas chambers, not by screams of children losing the sight of their mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers for the last time, not by the tears of now childless women, not by the fists of angry fathers, not by starvation, not by the chilling winds and freezing nights, but by hate.

A righteous anger stirred within the man on the far scaffold. They may have destroyed the lives of many, but they would not destroy again, not while he still had breath in his body.

A crystal knife was brought forward, reminiscing the night that had shattered peace forever in Germany. The knife gleamed harshly against her alabaster skin.

The crowd's frenzied fervor swelled to its zenith. The beasts of the dark screamed in anticipation. Thestrals screeched and trolls and giants roared and wild dragons beat their powerful wings. Dementors rolled and swirled above the crowd gorging themselves on the thousands of thoughts that rose from dancing shadows, feeding to the chill and the hate of the night. Dark and powerful wizards and witches shouted their allegiance to their leader and the growing evil within them.

He grabbed a fistful of her black hair and twisted her neck back. The crowd chanted in approval. He lowered his knife towards her neck. Her pulse raced. Her breath came in sharp gasps. Lower, the knife came, glinting orange in the torchlight. Death was coming rapidly like the night, chasing his way to the stage. A bead of hot crimson slid down her marble column.

"Can you feel that, traitor? Your life sliding away from you, droplet at a time?" he growled. He grasped the knife tighter, his knuckles white. The glint in his eye grew increasingly murderous. His yellow teeth glistened as he ran his tongue over his chapped lips.

She pursed her lips in silent stern dignity and drew herself up, accepting her fate with gentle courage, her green eyes fixed on the heavens. Fury hissed inside him. He cursed her sudden calm. She would fear him. She would beg for mercy and she would not receive it. His angry grip grew tighter on her hair and he pulled her neck back farther with vehemence, almost pulling her over. He drew the knife back with venomous anger, ready to strike, hard and swift.

Suddenly, a shout surged from the crowd. It was no longer the bloody cry of victory, however, it was the shriek of fear, the shriek of terror. The crowd came bubbling forward, trampling each other in rolling waves towards the front stage.

(A/N: Oh yes. Take that, history majors. If you don't understand the traditional and historical aspect of this particular date, I suggest you look it up. Oh, and review, because I know you all are DYING to find out what happens :)


	6. Untouchable

"Albus!" She screamed, "Albus! Albus, where are you? Please! Stop! Stop!"

She thrashed in her sleep, the blankets wrapped around her tightly and the more she thrashed, the tighter they grew. Her screams got louder.

Something stirred him from his sleep. He didn't know what it was that had awoken him, but he felt uneasy. He rose from his bed. The night was quiet and restless. He tried to go back to sleep, but he just could not go back to sleep. He sighed and went into the living room. He lit his pipe and sat down in a chair, puffing nervously. What could have woken him? Perhaps he should check on his wife.

He walked down the hall to the furthest door and put his ear against it. Not a sound. She must be asleep. He gently opened the door so he wouldn't wake her, but the second the door cracked open, her screams filled the hall.

"Minerva?!" he said concerned. She lay there thrashing on the bed in a wild fit. He ran to her side, shaking her, "Minerva, Minerva, please wake up!"

But she fought against his touch, still deep in her dream.

"No, no! Stop! I can't… I don't know! Stop! Stop! I don't want it!"

"Minerva, wake up," he pleaded, "Please wake up!"

He put a hand on her forehead, she was feverish and sweating profusely. Why hadn't he heard her screaming? He realized that she must have put up a silencing charm. How many other times had she dreamed the same dream?

"Wake up darling," he cried.

"Albus, Albus," she sobbed as her thrashing slowed, "Where are you? Where are you?"

He looked at her, love and deep concern swelling in his heart. She still wanted him, but she still was caught in her dream.

"I'm right here," he whispered, "I'm right here."

He smoothed the hair away from her forehead, "Minerva, please wake up."

"Albus… Albus…" she whispered, exhaustedly.

He then shook her gently, "Minerva, wake up."

She awoke with a start.

"Don't touch me!" she screamed before seeing that it was her husband who was gently shaking her. He recoiled, hurt.

But she stopped him, touching his arm lightly, "Oh, Albus, I didn't mean to… I thought it was…"

He smiled relieved.

"Shhh… I know," he said petting her, kneeling beside the bed, "I know."

He kissed her drenched forehead, "Are you alright?"

She shook her head, "No."

She needed him, she realized suddenly.

"Albus?"

"Yes, darling?" he whispered.

"Hold me."

His heart overflowed with joy. He got into their bed next to her and gathered her into his arms. She clung to him sobbing softly.

"Minerva, how many times have you dreamed this?"

She shook her head, "Too many times,"

"How many?"

"Every night," she said against his chest.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to know,"

"Is that why you put up the silencing charm?"

She inhaled sharply, "Yes."

"I see," he said rubbing her arm soothingly.

"Why, Minerva?"

"I… please, don't ask me, I don't know,"

He sighed deeply and decided not to press it further, but revel in the embrace of his wife.

Soon, her breathing evened and she fell asleep in his arms, but he could not sleep. Why had she waited so long? A whole month, nearly two? He still would not have known if something hadn't woken him. But what had woken him? He had been sleeping peacefully and his wife was exceedingly proficient at silencing charms, (Lord knows they needed them for all those years with the children in the house). So why had he woken up? As he drifted off to sleep, these same thoughts swirled in his head.

He woke to find her side of the bed empty. She had gotten up earlier than he remembered her even to have risen. He heard retching noises from the bathroom. He threw off the covers and went into the bathroom, but she was already washing her face.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. It's been a long time since I went through this last, but I'm fine."

He went to take her in his arms, but she moved away, drying her face.

"I'm sorry about last night. I don't know what came over me."

Her voice was cold. She had closed up again.

"No," he said attempting to hold her again, "No, don't be sorry. I…"

She moved away yet again, "Let's not do this, Albus. I'm sorry you were woken last night, I can't imagine what happened."

She began to put her hair up, jabbing the pins into her knot.

But he was determined not to lose her this time.

"No, Minerva, it was good for you. Good for us," he said, "I… why do you keep moving away."

"Albus, I need to get ready," she said stiffly, "We are going to see the doctor today, together as you insisted and I do not intend to look as if I just rolled out of bed."

"You needn't. It's seven o'clock and your appointment isn't until nine, that leaves you two whole hours to put on your ruddy clothes and your God forsaken make-up and put up your hair and whatever else you do in the morning to look so untouched and untouchable!" but immediately after he said it, he knew he shouldn't have.

She glared at him venomously pursing her lips, but did not say anything.

After what seemed like hours of tense silence she turned to him.

"Really?" she spat putting on her earrings, "Untouched? Untouchable? I only wish I was both of those, Albus: untouched and untouchable by anyone, because it would be better that than to feel as I do."

"And how _do_ you feel Minerva?" he asked angrily.

She turned to him with equal malice and asked, "What do you think it would feel like, being the medium of someone else's revenge?"

He was taken aback, defeated. It was the second time and surely not the last, he realized that he had made someone suffer gravely for his own errs.

"That's what I thought," She knew she had struck him deeply. She also knew that she had fought dirty, but was determined to follow through. She brushed past him and made her way toward the kitchen.

(A/N: I spend way too much time on this sight. My grades are going to start suffering. But what can I do? Jerry (my annoying muse) woke up after months and months of deep sleep and demanded that I write, threatening me with a croquet mallet until I finally gave in and fell to the seduction of the written word. Review so Jerry will stay awake.)


	7. Magic and Mysteries

The crowd surged forward, in horror. The back scaffold was engulfed in blue flames which shot high into the night sky. The flames were blazing forward and witches and wizards and creatures of all kinds were scattered in every direction, screaming and howling as they came.

"What the devil?" he said shielding his eyes from the flames, knife at his side. Had in fact the Devil risen from the depths of darkness with this blinding light?

There was a figure in the midst of the flames, his hands outstretched, wide. Another streak of light, similar to the one that had fell earlier, shot into the heavens. A cobalt blue firebird dove down upon the front stage, just missing the fanged man and disappeared into the black.

Grindelwald growled, "Dumbledore."

"_Aguamenti_!" Grindelwald shouted at the fire that was rapidly coming forward. A huge jet of water sprang forth and the fire that was crawling forward shrank back. Another wave of fire surged forward in its place. How on earth had he conjured such a flame? It was impossible without a wand. Without a wand. How had he gotten a wand?

Albus wasn't quite sure what was going on himself. He had been standing there, forced to watch his wife's death when… but what had happened?

Think Albus, think! He told himself. He was… but he couldn't remember… He needed protection… something to protect Minerva… he thought… and then there was that streak of light… the guard was knocked down and he grabbed the wand somehow… and the guard fell after that…it was a phoenix… his Patronus… no, it couldn't have been his patronus! But then there it was again! It nodded. It was his Patronus! He had conjured it without a wand… no… he couldn't have.

He looked down. There _he_ was! Oh, he could kill that man. The fair haired man poised with a knife ready to kill his beloved. Passionate anger burned within him, his hand clutched tighter around the stolen wand. And suddenly blue flames rose up around him. But he hadn't cast a spell! It seemed as if his very mind had conjured the flames. Wandless magic? Was it possible? He was surprised at his own power.

He could feel their energy, but it the flames didn't burn him. However, with each pulse of righteous anger within his heart, the flames pulsed furiously forward. While they the blistering hot flames only licked warmly at Albus, they tore mercilessly at the dark creatures they engulfed. He willed the flames to go forward and they did so with consuming vigor.

This time he raised the wand which he had taken from the guard and with expert talent shouted, "EXPECTO PATRONUM"

A jet of light flew from the wand and swooped down on the man with the crystal knife.

It knocked the fanged man back, but he did not drop the knife. He turned back towards Minerva and grabbed a fistful of dark hair.

"Well, it seems my dear, that your charming husband has once again made a nuisance of himself which means that you shall be forced to serve a greater purpose, which is such a pity," he said harshly, "I was so looking forward to watching you bleed to death. But," he added, "still, I can't give up hope. The night is young. My wishes will still be carried out by daybreak."

He licked the slow trickle of blood that was issuing from the small hole in her neck.

"Mmm," he said as her the speed of her breath increased, "Tastes like victory!"

The beasts and wizards of all sorts still swarmed about the front stage trying to escape the deadly blue flames. Unearthly screams rose from the night.

"Dumbledore!" shouted Grindelwald, "A word, if you will! Or your lovely wife here," he said pressing the crystal knife against her neck yet again, "will be dead before midnight strikes," he said into the blue flames.


	8. Pride

She threw her purse on the sofa and sat down next to it. Her hand shook heavily as she rested it on her forehead which began to ache. Her eyes were red and wet again. It seemed they would never dry. She bit nervously on her thumb nail. Albus sat heavily down next to her and let out a deep breath.

"Well," she said though hiccupping sobs, "It's o-fficial."

"Yes." said Albus leaning his head on his hand.

"I'm preg-nant." She said trying to contain her sobs.

"Yes." he repeated.

She glanced at him sideways. How could he be so damned distant at a time like this? And she was bitter. She wanted to rip his very heart out.

"Well, you should be proud." She said coldly.

"Why?" he said, his mind elsewhere.

"I'm about to have your best chum's bastard child." she said calculatingly.

He looked at her in silence trying to understand why she was behaving this way.

"Minerva," he said calmly, "Why are you acting like this?"

"Like what?" she asked, knowing very well how she was acting but for some perverse reason wanted to hear him say it.

"Like you are trying to push me away,"

"Because I am, _Dumbledore_."

He was silent. He knew what she was doing and two could play at that. Only this wasn't a game.

"Fine, _Ms. McGonagall_," he spat her maiden name at her, "If that's how you would have it," he said rising, "I only ask you: why?"

He had struck a cord. Why? That question plagued her a million times a day. Why had this happened? Why was she pushing him away? Why did this all have to be so hard? Why? Why when she needed him the most was he not there? She hadn't let him, she remembered with cold realization. But she was not going to give in that easily.

"And I ask you," she spat, "how you can be so stoically calm while… while…" she trailed off. Then with renewed vigor said, "I slept with your best friend. And now I'm going to have a child by him. What are you going to do?"

He could see the hurt little girl in her just wanting to be loved, but he didn't know how to love her anymore. He did love her. He did, he repeated over and over in his mind, but how to show her? It was as if she had lost her understanding of it.

He shook his head, "No. You didn't."

"What?" she asked astounded at his reply.

"You didn't 'sleep' with him."

"Yes. Of course I did," she said matter-of-factly.

He chuckled, although he knew he shouldn't have, "Any 'sleeping' on your behalf was merely coincidental."

Her face turned scarlet with rage.

"Albus! I…" she said flustered.

"Well," she said regaining composure, "I had sex with him anyway. That should make you thrilled." She looked away from him, not truly wanting to see his reaction to that statement.

He sat down beside her, "Is that what you think?"

She remained silent, cold and hard.

"No Minerva, I am not thrilled. He was never my best friend. And no, you didn't." 

She looked at him questioningly.

"You were raped. You were taken against your will," his words spoken so calmly bit at her sharply.

"And that's supposed to make it all better then? Just because it wasn't my choice?" she yelled angrily.

"No. Of course not," he said ever calm.

"You think you know everything!" she screamed in anger, "You and all your wisdom. Well there's one thing you certainly don't know about. Humility. Can you imagine? Could you even imagine for a minute… you're so self-centered… you and all your brilliance. You in school. I watched. I watched as they awarded you for all your magical research on potions and transfiguration. I was proud. So terribly proud. And so were you. Never did I see you humbled until after your sister died! Is that what it takes then? For someone that you love to be killed or… maimed for you to be humbled? I'm terribly glad I never had to sacrifice any of my children to your unyielding pride, Albus. We never would have lasted as long as we have. Even now, we're just barely surviving."

The bile in her heart was suddenly flowing like acid over her lips. It burned her saying them. Why was she saying them? She realized suddenly that she wanted to wound him as she had been wounded, to watch him bleed to death in his own guilt. And what would that accomplish she wondered?

Her barbs had finally done the trick. She watched him with sorrow as he crumbled. The great Albus Dumbledore so calm, unyielding, falling apart under the weight of his own guilt.

He would never forgive her, she thought. Never. She'd taken him too far.

She ran to her room and slammed the door. She slid the lock into place.

He heard the lock slide and something clicked in his mind. Anger suddenly overran the guilt in his mind. He stalked to the door and didn't either bother knocking. He was beyond that. He took out his wand and the door burst open long before he reached it. She didn't have time to react. She had pushed him too far, she realized in fear.

He stalked up to her and stopped in front of her, lightening blazing in his blue eyes.

"You think I don't feel pain then do you?" his voice steady and even which made it more frightening than if he had yelled them, "You will know that I have not reveled in your pain. Did you think that I get some perverse pleasure out of seeing you rip yourself apart for something you had no power to control? And you. You know that you have complete control over me. You know just which stings to pull and are not afraid of pulling them. It was one of the reasons why I first loved you. But this time, you've taken it a bit far, don't you think, Minerva?"

He stepped forward. She was truly frightened now. She shrank in fear. She thought that he had been pushed over the edge. He would kill her, she was sure. He certainly had the power. But she was wrong. Very wrong. He was in complete control for the first time since they had returned from Germany. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"No longer the marble goddess, are you Minerva? Unfeeling to everything, even love, just caught up in your own self-pity. A wounded animal, continually nursing her wounds, licking them in hopes that they'll heal but just adding to the infection. No more, Minerva. I won't stand for it.," he looked into her green eyes and saw that same tearful child, afraid for her life, "Get on the bed."

My God, she thought, he's going to do it. After all I've been through; it's going to kill me. She began to hyperventilate but she tearfully did what he said, thinking, almost knowing she had no other choice but to comply. She began to take off her blouse and undergarments thinking that that was what he wanted.

He looked at her shocked and disgusted, not with her exactly, but with what he knew she thought of him and what she thought of herself. Was that still all she thought she was? Something to be used? After all those years of marriage, it had never been that way. Never before and never again would it be.

"Did I say take off your clothes?" he asked sternly but gently this time, "follow directions, Ms. McGonagall. I said get on the bed, not take off your clothes _then_ get on the bed."

She didn't understand. What was he going to do to her?

"Because I can't seem to get to you any other way and because you insist, we're going to start at the beginning. This is _our_ bed. We used to share it, remember? Well, it's going to be that way again, Ms. McGonagall. Here," he said flinging her night clothes at her, "go into the bathroom and put these on. When you're ready, come back out and get in bed. Don't even think about locking that door or by Jove, I'll break it down."

What could she do? She thought about trying to escape. But where could she go? Poppy? Yes, but not for long, he'd be there in an instant, and Poppy would not think highly of her for trying to escape from a man who had never once laid a finger on her except by her desires. Not once had Albus ever harmed her, she remembered, but then again, she had never expressly angered him either, at least not to this extent. She must deserve whatever was coming to her on the other side of the door. She changed trembling into her night clothes and came softly out of the door. He had already changed into his night clothes and was in the bed, his back to her. He heard her open the door.

"Get into bed, Minerva," he said still faced away from her. She meekly came to the bed and got in it stiffly, staring up at the ceiling willing herself not to cry again.

Pride. She was right. He was prideful, too prideful even to admit when he was wrong. Terribly wrong. He should not have left her alone so long. And now she needed him more than ever, to bring up a child that, although she had never desired it, she was meant to have. It would not grow up without a father, he resolved. It would be loved and then maybe this cycle of hate would finally end. And she could not live her life in fear. Not of him, not of her child, and certainly not of herself. She was so stiff and tense in the bed next to him, perhaps she was expecting that he was going to hurt her or do something even worse.

"Minerva, sit up," he said suddenly, sitting up himself.

Now she was going to get it, she thought painfully.

She slowly sat up in the bed, her chin down.

"Look at me, Minerva," he said gently tilting her chin up. She grimaced at his very touch.

"Please, don't hurt me," she whispered.

"Minerva, listen to me. I'm going to tell you something I should have told you ages ago. I'm sorry. I'm sorry this whole damned thing happened. You're right and I'm sorry that I've been too damned prideful to even apologize. I'm not going to hurt you, Minerva. I just want to be near you again. I love you. I really do. And it's not just some sort of terribly skewed fairy tale romantic love either. I really love you."

She didn't look convinced, but he had said it.

He sighed, "I just wanted you to know. I'm going to sleep now and I hope you follow suit. It's been a very long day for the both of us and tomorrow proves to be even longer."

He turned over, leaving most of the covers on her side as she used to steal them subconsciously anyway.

She stared at her husband for a long time, trying to absorb what he had said. Soon though, exhaustion took over and she fell asleep.

(A/N: I must thank you all reading and for reviewing. You all have been positively fantastic. I've been so damned busy with school work, and this is my escape from reality. I really like the bi-polarness of this fic. The past and "present" match up in a way. I'd encourage all you lovely readers to read this fic two chapters at a time, a past coupled with a present. Tell me what you think)


	9. Dangerous Deals

The flames rose around the stage, but did not come on to the stage. Suddenly Albus was in their midst.

"Let her go, you Bastard," he said evenly.

"Such a dirty tongue, remind me to cut it out. No, Albus. I don't think so. You see, I have something you want. In fact, I have two things you want," he smiled knowingly, "And right now, both of them belong to me."

The knife dug painfully into her neck and she whimpered.

Concern covered Albus' face for a moment. Grindelwald smiled broader.

"She's beautiful, Albus. It's wonder how you've kept such a treasure secret for so long. Not, of course, that I can blame you. A pureblood so handsomely formed… so soft, so deliciously good, inside and out, what more can a man ask for?" he said kneeling next to Albus' wife.

With that, Albus shoved the stolen wand under Grindelwald's nose, "You will not talk about my wife that way. Let her go."

"Ah ah ah, Albus," Grindelwald said in a sing-song warning, "We wouldn't want to do that! One little slip of the wrist and your lovely wife here has no chance of survival. You forget the wonderful enchantments about these knives, or perhaps that's the one thing your great mind has never known. You notice that little tiny hole on her neck hasn't stopped bleeding since I pierced it? You wouldn't be able to heal her fast enough to save her."

It was true. The hole was still small and trickling an ever so slow drip of blood. Even if he did curse the dark wizard, all it took was one false move and his dear wife was gone forever. Albus looked at him with loathing contempt, "Let her go."

"No," Grindelwald shook his head, "I don't think I will. Because you see, I find that when I am merciful to people, they don't take me seriously. And I don't think you've ever taken me seriously up until this point. And believe me," he pulled her hair so that she took in a deep breath, "you will take me seriously after tonight."

"Gellert, this battle is with me. Why put her in the middle of it all?"

"Why indeed?" Grindelwald said with a sadistic smile, "I guess then, that it would be better if we eliminated the woman altogether then?"

He tightened his grip on the knife as if to push it deep into the lightly pulsing skin where the artery underneath lie.

"No!" Albus said

"Yes, that's what I thought," Grindelwald smiled again, "Now, I have a way that you can get exactly what you want, and I can get exactly what you want, although, of course, I have never been very good at getting the light end of a deal. _Accio radio!_"

Albus' radio came flying through the air and was manipulated over the rising flames into their little circle of protection.

"Now, those twenty names I asked for earlier. It is no longer a matter. I don't care what the devil you call them, but you will bring them here. In exactly two hours, the stroke of midnight, you will have those twenty here. Bring more if you like. Bring the whole British wizarding force if you want, it doesn't make a difference,' he said with a wave of his hand, "But you will be there, Albus. If you fail to attend our little gathering, Albus with your comrades of course, not only shall I keep my wand, as if you could possibly win it back, but your lovely wife will be dead before daybreak and no muggle or still living half-blood shall be shown the gift of mercy."

With that, the dark wizard disapparated, Minerva with him.

Albus fell to his knees, the radio in his hands and as he cried, the flames about him died down into embers.

(A/N: Ok, is this getting boring or something? I feel it's getting boring. If it's getting boring PLEASE tell me and I'll put this sucker out of its misery. It won't be pretty, but I'll do it. Love to all my die-hard readers and reviewers. You guys rock. In fact, you guys have destroyed Scissors and Paper can't handle you. That's how much you Rock.)


	10. Children

(A/N: This is a chapter re-write. It was re-written on the very true fact that the children's reactions in the original chapter that was here was not very realistic at all. This re-write is an aim to correct that. The interactions are more realistic I think than the original. It is similar, but very different. Read, enjoy, review. Special thanks to Gynji who most recently pointed this out.)

She woke up with a splitting headache. It felt as if the pain was going to tear her head apart. Of course, he was not there when she awoke. He did not touch her when they slept side by side and true to his nature, always arose before she did. The days and nights blended into each other. Few words were said. Everything was very polite, one would almost say kind, but it lacked the friendship and passion that was so characteristic of their relationship before. The only thing that seemed to change now that they were again sleeping in the same room was that she seemed to have fewer dreams. But she still had them, dark and frightening as before. It was then and only then that she permitted her husband to hold her as she drenched his nightrobe in tears and sweat.

She glanced at the clock. Eight o'clock. It was time to get up, but she didn't want to. She spread her arms out feeling the cold side of the bed. There was a knock on the door.

"Are you decent?"

"I," she answered, "am always decent. However, I cannot always account for you."

He opened the door, "I'm glad to see you haven't completely lost your sense of humor."

"I'm beginning to doubt if I actually had one," she said sitting up.

"How are you feeling this morning, Minerva?" he said placing a hand on what he supposed to be a leg through the blankets. It was formal and polite, perhaps with some concern, but it sounded more like a doctor asking his patient of her health rather than a husband.

"Like hell," she said rubbing her forehead.

"Minerva," he said looking into his hands, "I know it's still very early, but…" he paused, "We need to tell the children."

"Surely not so soon!" she cried with a start before lying back down, rubbing her temples.

He nodded with a sigh, "they have as much right to know as anybody."

"It's just so…"

"'So', what, Minerva? Soon? It's been nearly two months since we've known and you've been… we've been back for three. It would be unfair to keep them in the dark any longer."

She bit her lip, "Secrets. Darkness. That's all our life has been so far hasn't it Albus?" she looked up at him. Here eyes were full of sorrow.

"Our first children, your children, the ones we should have been so proud of, the ones that we should have made known to everyone were kept like a terrible secret," she said.

His face hardened, "You know why we had to keep them secret, Minerva, I have too many enemies."

"Yes, we everyone is bloody-well going to know about this one and it's not even yours. Not even someone I loved. Everyone knows… everyone knows what happened in the tunnels. I can't hide whose child it is," her face was flushed with anger, "they'll either know or think I'm a ruddy whore like they did before."

He looked at her, "they never thought you were a whore."

"Oh yes they did. You only had to look in their eyes. An unwed mother of five," she scoffed.

"But you told them you had to keep it quiet because of the Ministry, did you not?"

"Of course, of course," she said tiredly, "Over and over again, I had to explain embarrassed by the questions. The children, the poor children at school, had to lie so often, their father was dead, they said. Trained after so many years to say so. Remember how often they would ask, 'why? Why can't we be just like everyone else?' But we couldn't let them," she said rubbing her forehead which was throbbing furiously.

"And now," she continued, "Everyone will know that I'm having the bastard child of the most feared dark lord of our century…"

"You will not refer to that child as a 'bastard' ever again, Minerva, however the child may have come into existence, it has just as much right to life and love as any child," he said, bright eyes flashing, "That child is yours; it has a mother and that is enough for me. If you will permit, I will love it as my own."

"A favor, perhaps, to your friend? To raise his child, the one that he brought into existence out of spite for you?" she said bitterly.

"Woman, when will this bitterness end? Yes, Gellert was a friend. _Was_ a friend. _Is _a friend no longer. It was all a mistake," he pounded a fist against his thigh in frustration, "a terrible… terrible mistake…"

She hated him for the past that he could not change. Then she felt something she had not felt for a long time, she felt... was it compassion? She didn't know. She was not mad at him any longer, but what emotion replaced it, she did not know. She only knew that she was tired. Tired of trying to understand what she could not.

"Alright," she said with a sigh, "When?"

"Hmm?"

"When do we have to tell the children?"

"Oh," he had nearly forgotten why he was there, "today if possible."

"Can we get all of them here on such short notice?" Minerva asked.

"Indeed. I think so. They know what we've been through and promised ready availability if anything should come up," he said.

"I hate doing this to them."

"Yes, but I don't think it can be helped. And it best be us and not rumors that they hear it from."

That afternoon the five children of Albus and Minerva stood in their living room, apprehensive about what this family meeting was about. The Dumbledore children were a rare case of animagus multiple birth, a set of quintuplets, fraternal with a pair of twins. One could not call them children anymore, though. All thirty-one years of age, they had lives and families of their own. They looked to be in their early twenties, the result of magic. They never spoke of their father, although everyone noted their mother. But of course, this is how it had to be, for indeed, while their father had many admirers, he also had equal the number of enemies. As children, they did not always understand the weight that their father's name carried, but as they matured, they grew to understand. They even appreciated being known only under their mother's name, for it meant that they could lead a relatively normal life without the publicity and awkward moments from the expectation of greatness. They could be known for their own achievements.

"Hello, Dad," said a dismal Nathaniel, "I imagine there's a greater reason you called us all here than you miss us."

"I do miss you," Albus said, startled by his son's gruff demeanor.

"Oh don't bother with him," said Susan as she kissed her father's cheek, "He's just sour you interrupted his special night with Georgiana."

She gave her brother a sharp glare and handed him a handkerchief.

"Wipe that lipstick off your face before Mum comes in. Honestly, don't you ever think about these things before disapparating? I must say though, your wife _does_ have good taste in lipstick. Andrieta Felicci's 'Never-Smear, Always-Stick' line I take it by how hard you're having to rub. That witch knows her cosmetics. Try '_scourgify_' on it. Your skin might be a little raw, but believe me, you'll have a hard time getting it off otherwise. Honestly, you do it, or Mum will," she said, "So Dad, what's the news?"

"Wait until your mother comes in," Albus replied.

Minerva came in and sat down, calm and dignified, and slender as ever. She had not begun to show. She sat in her chair closest to the fireplace and folded her tartan blanket across her lap. Albus came and stood behind her chair.

"Well, Mum," said Susan, straight-backed like her mother, her long chocolate-brown hair about her shoulders, "What is it, then?"

"Has Grindelwald escaped? Is he threatening us again?" Elizabeth asked.

"In a way," said Minerva. Her lip curled a bit at her daughter's comment.

They all looked at their mother in shock.

"Don't look so, I haven't even told you the news," she said, slightly amused, "Well, it's no use dragging it out any longer, I've never been very good at that."

She looked up at her husband, searching for confidence, but his face showed nothing. Ah well, this was her match and she was going to fight it.

"I'm pregnant," she announced.

"But we thought…" started the twins, Curtis and Timothey who, although both married, still seemed to read each others minds.

"That we weren't having any more children?" Minerva said, "we, your father and I, are not. I, however, am."

Susan finally broke the silence.

"But… I… mother… who?"

Minerva concentrated on her hands. She was again, on the verge of tears.

"You might as well hear it now before any nasty rumours start. You all know what happened in the tunnels of the Brocken Mountain. We were prisoners and he… did things that a man should never be allowed to do to a woman. Your father couldn't stop him in time for that. Your father saved my life, but that's about all," she said bitterly.

Albus turned away from his children and his wife and stared into the fireplace.

"Anyway," she continued, "he thought he'd impose one last gift upon us, before his destruction, and as a result, I am going to be the mother of his child."

The children who were now adults looked from one to another, each with a thousand questions, and yet not knowing what to say or who to ask them.

Nathaniel spoke up.

"Will it be like us? You know… there were five of us…"

"Oh, the Animagus Effect? No. There's just one according to the doctors. Doctors have been wrong, but I doubt it," Minerva answered.

"How is it even possible?" Susan said, "I thought you had charms done to prevent you from conceiving again. You know, what with five on the first time around."

"There were many spells cast that night, many spells cast on me. Right after being captured and during captivity. I imagine a number of them could have reversed the spells," Minerva said. It was the only explanation she could think of for she often pondered the same question.

"So it is true then, isn't it?" Curtis said.

"What's true?" Albus asked, finally speaking up. He had been quiet so long, Minerva almost wondered whether he had left the room.

"He," Curtis paused, not wanting to say the next words, "did rape you, then."

Minerva looked affronted, but tried to answer calmly.

"Yes," she said, "Why? What have you heard?"

"Well," he said, "We—we didn't want to ask. We were hoping you'd explain."

He pulled a newspaper out of his jacket and set it on the table. He pointed to the front page. It was an in-depth story of the capture telling the "true story" of the events of that fateful night. It wasn't very 'in-depth' at all, but it did the damage.

"Idiotic, distasteful newspaper. It's always risking someone's life for the sake of a 'scoop.' You see, it listed all the Order members," Elizabeth said.

"And it listed you especially as being sexually abused. We didn't want to ask. We figured you'd tell us if you wanted," Susan continued.

The room was quiet for a long while afterwards. No one wanted to say anything. They were all waiting for someone else to say something. Minerva picked up the newspaper gingerly and read her name in the article. Her worst fears were confirmed. They would all know now.

"Well," she said, "I guess that's that."

They were all silent again.

"Well, I don't know why we're all standing around here," Nathaniel said. He shifted from one foot to the other awkwardly.

"Well," said Timothey looking to Curtis.

"Well," said Curtis.

"I guess…" Timothey said.

"Congratulations, Mum," they said together softly.

Minerva, for the second time that evening, smiled slightly. They were not mad at her.

"Yes, congratulations, Mum," Nathaniel said.

"Yes, but Mum," Susan said, "Are you happy for all this?"

Minerva looked at her children.

"I'm not sure yet. I haven't decided. I only know that it is a child and, as your father likes to remind me," she looked at Albus, "every child has a right to live and be loved. I suppose I'll try not to be upset so long as you aren't mad at me for what has happened."

"Oh Mother," said Elizabeth. She took her mother's hands in hers, "How could we be mad at you? I'm so happy for you. Maybe some good will come out of all of this."

"No," Timothey said, "we could never be mad at you because of…"

"Things that were not in your power to control," finished Curtis.

The room grew quiet once again.

"We love you, Mum," Elizabeth said softly. She rose then, "If you need any help… I'd do anything for you. Absolutely anything. I've got to leave just now. What with the kids and all."

One by one, the children who were no longer children disappeared into the night.


	11. Reality Rerendered

(A/N: Wow… ok… I guess I really confused y'all with that last one… yes, their kids are 31… yes, it does work. No, I'm not on drugs. Yes, I HAVE read the books. I'm a complete nerd about Harry Potter, not a geek, and believe me, there's a difference. I tried to explain it in the end of the second chapter. But never fear! I hate suspending my disbelief anymore than I have to, and so, I am sure, do you. So stop suspending that poor disbelief so high and I will give you reason to believe just a little bit more…

It never says in the books when Minerva was born, it just describes her as _appearing_ to be in her seventies. Looks can be deceiving though. She could plausibly be the same age as Dumbledore. The books never say for sure. It is my opinion that witches and wizards must have the ability to live unnaturally long lives: example at hand, Ms. Bagshot who was middle aged during Dumbledore's youth and still alive at the start of the Seventh Book.

Still don't believe me? Ready for some math? Take the case of Voldemort or even better, Hagrid, if we say that Tom Riddle was a seventh year prefect during the time of Grindelwald's reign, we'll say the early part of it because it seemed that Grindelwald (and therefore Hitler) was on the rise, this would make the seventeen year old born around 1925 making him approximately 72 at his death. NOW, if we say that Tom Riddle was 17 when the Chamber of Secrets was opened the first time, this would make the Third year Hagrid 13, only four years younger than Voldemort, and therefore 68 at the time of the last book, this is not the same Hagrid we see. He, in the books seems only to be in his late forties, early fifties at most. Minerva, we can agree, always appears to be much older than Hagrid and Voldemort. In my opinion, not just by a couple of years, either. Wizards must therefore have some innate ability to appear younger than they really are, a result of their unusually long lives. But I digress.

IF you read my other story, It's a MMAD MADD MMAD MMAD World, (yes I know… another shameless plug for my own writing, I'm sorry), which I strongly suggest as it will help you understand at least _my_ view of their history, then you will know that the children were born shortly before the start of the Great War or World War I which started in 1914. If we say that the story which you are currently reading took place in 1945, the end of World War II, then the math is correct and the children are in fact, 31. I was actually surprised after doing the math to find this out, but there it is, they are actually 31. But of course, EVERYONE LOOKS MUCH YOUNGER. Therefore, I do not find it strange that Grindelwald is physically attracted to her. Go Wizarding magic! It's so magical. If you still disagree with my logic, by all means, do. It is my opinion that everyone is free to their own opinions and not just mine, but I just wanted to defend my view.)

"Well, Minerva. It's down to you and me. You and me, that's all there is," Grindelwald drawled, petting her long black hair, "because by the end of tonight, your husband will be just another body in the incinerator."

She moaned in anger, gagged by red silk.

"What?" Grindelwald continued, "Do you wish to say something?" the silk vanished with a flick of his wand, "Then don't mumble, speak up!"

"You coward, you… you..."

"Now, now, Minerva, let's not get carried away. Coward, eh? Is that what you think of me. Did you know, your dear loving hubbie was behind glass watching while I was touching you," he touched her cheek, "while I cut you… while I _raped _you."

"You lie," she spat.

"I don't. He was there the entire time, and he didn't have the nerve to stop it, now who's the coward, my dear?" he smirked.

"You… you are. I know as well as you do that he had no choice… just part of your plot," Minerva managed, but she was growing dizzy, the small tricking of blood from her neck was still flowing.

"You are tired, my love, still bleeding?" Grindelwald asked. He sighed heavily then drew the same crystal knife and pricked his own finger with it and pushed it against her neck where the blood trickled from and immediately, both her neck and his finger healed.

"Th… thank you," she said weakly, hardly knowing what she was saying anymore.

He chuckled, "You're welcome, I'm quite sure."

He re-sheathed the knife and straightened looking down at her. She was still wearing the red silk dress, although the front was sticky and deeper red from her blood. She was pale, but they had rouged her cheeks and lips for the evening that was supposed to announce his victory, which, he said to himself, it still would. Her long black hair was set in lush curls about her shoulders. She was still extraordinary, the one prize that Albus would always have over him.

No. He would remedy that. He would corrode that perfect mind of Albus through his wife's perfect body. He would use it again, this time just to show, yet again, his complete victory over his enemy, one his enemy was completely powerless to stop. This would be a psychological victory over both of them.

He removed her handcuffs and rubbed her wrists tenderly.

"These are rather uncomfortable aren't they?" he said in a sickly honeyed tone.

Her hands fell limp at her sides. It was all too easy. She couldn't struggle, even if she wanted to. He lifted her up easily.

"Come, you're tired, and the night is not yet over," he said placing her on a bed in one of the rooms in the underground tunnels. He started at ankles and slowly pulled the dress up to knees. He felt the backs of her legs where he had disabled her and she hissed in pain for it was all she could do.

"Stop," she said weakly as he continued to pull her dress off. She tried to grip his wrists to push him away, but her vision was blurry and she couldn't seem to find them. He simply brushed them away and continued pulling up the dress. He slowly began to pull the wet dress from her skin. The blood caked instantly into strange, malicious black patterns against the soft ivory of her skin. He pressed his tongue against them, enjoying the metallic twinge.

He dropped the red dress on the floor by the side of the bed and looked at his prize. They hadn't given her any underwear as it was deemed unnecessary if she was going to die anyway. The dress was for symbolism more than modesty's sake. There can be nothing modest about humiliation. She was fully exposed to him and it was tearing her apart, he could see. The conflict and fear was evident in her eyes. She tried putting her thighs together, but her torn ligaments worked against her. She cried softly in anguish.

"There, there now. Why are you crying, my pet? There's nothing to be ashamed of. You have a beautiful body," he said soothingly.

"I'm not… your pet," she labored to say.

He laughed.

"Don't worry, pet, you will enjoy it this time. See? No weapons this time. No Clothes even to scrape against your wounds," he said as he undressed. He took out his wand and began to heal over the scab that had formed on her stomach and the inside of her thigh from their earlier encounter, turning them into puffy scars. He then used it to clean away the caked blood on her skin, "There now, no wounds even to worry about."

"Get… away from m… me…"

He laughed again, "You should stop trying. You sound pitiful. Really, that's what you are. Tsk. There I go ruining the romantic atmosphere with insults. Many apologies, pet.'

She attempted to get up, but he pushed her back down roughly. He throttled her. She tried to push him away, but she had no strength left in her. He took her wrists and pinned them above her head. She turned her head as he leaned down to kiss her so he sucked on her neck, biting it.

"Come, my love, you know what I want. You know that you want it to. Why resist any longer?"

She couldn't fight him. He was too heavy. He was too strong. He didn't even have a weapon anymore, she wasn't even bound and she couldn't fight him off.

"Albus," she said weakly, "Albus, where are you?"

He ground his teeth, "Your 'Albus' isn't here, Minerva. I want you to remember who's on top of you. Who's making love to you."

He chose his words carefully and purposely.

"Making… love…" she repeated.

"That's right, my love, that's right," he whispered.

This was all too easy.

He rose from the bed nearly an hour later. She was asleep. He had managed to keep her awake somehow through the whole thing. He wiped his forehead. He looked at her exhausted body.

Yes, he decided, she deserved sleep. She was a good ride. Well, she could sleep for another half-hour.

(A/N: Yeah… another author's note…. Sorry for the really long one in the beginning. Thanks for reading it… well, tell me what you think.)


	12. Understanding

They all took turns to kiss their mother on the cheek and disappearing into the night.

"I'll stay a bit," said Susan as the others turned to go, "I want to talk to Dad."

"You don't mind, do you, Mum, if we left the house for a bit?" Susan said turning to her mother. Minerva shook her head.

"Let's go on a walk then, shall we?" she said to her father, taking his arm.

They walked slowly into the late summer air.

"How is Mum, really, Dad?" Susan asked with concern. She took out a cigarette and tapped it on her well manicured nail before lighting it.

He looked at his daughter and swore he saw Minerva, only younger. She was tall and had the same dark hair and cheekbones, but the piercing quality about her dark green eyes, he knew was from him.

"What do you mean?" Albus said trying not to give away too much in his voice, but alas, his daughter was practically a mind reader herself.

"You know what I mean, father. She isn't herself, is she? Changed, you know? All broken on the inside, in spite of her hard, cool exterior. She isn't fairing well is she?" she said seriously, gazing out at the field that they were walking in. She flicked the ashes off her cigarette nervously.

He shook his head, "No. your mother has been though quite a bit with all this."

"Worse yet, you aren't doing so well yourself," she said turning to him and tossing down her cigarette before crushing it beneath her heel.

"What are you talking about? I'm fine," Albus said somewhat indignantly.

"You miss Mother, don't you?"

"How do you know?"

"You should practice your Occlumency a bit more, Dad," she said nonchalantly.

"I forgot you were a Legilimens," Albus said with an air of pride.

"I've had to be," she said softly.

"Mmmm, nearly forgot, m'dear," Albus said kissing his daughter on the forehead, "I do miss her. Terribly. I know she'll never be the same, and I know we'll never be the same as a couple, I only wish there were something more between us than sarcasm and pain. We're sleeping in the same bed again and we share the same food at the dinner table, but that's about all we have. It gets incredibly lonely about here when there's no one here. School is about to start again. I can get out of the house, but this is no good for your mother, she'll be alone most of the day. It isn't good for her. I know we don't talk much, but at least she knows that I'm there. At least that's what I hope."

"I don't think she knows how you feel, Dad," Susan said.

He sighed, "I know… I just don't know how to relate to her anymore. They're not going to let her teach this year."

"I don't know how she lives with nothing to occupy her mind," Susan said thoughtfully, "She must just go over the events over and over and over again. It's enough to drive a person mad."

"I know. And I fear I haven't been much help. I'm surprised she hasn't had a mental breakdown. I've just never been very good at counseling," Albus said pained.

Susan nodded, "Well, Mother always was a fighter. Do you know everything that happened to her that night?"

"Well… Gellert gloated… to everyone… everyone knows… We had to fill out reports to the ministry…" he responded.

"Have you asked her about it?" Susan said earnestly.

He was silent for a long time.

"Yes," he said finally, "But you know your mother. She can be so cold when she wants to be."

"So can you, Dad. Have you told her how you feel? How you felt?" Susan pried.

He shook his head. No. He hadn't.

She took a deep breath and crossed her arms, "Look Dad. I hate to see both of you in such pain. I want you two to be happy more than anything else in the world. I want mother to be happy, especially with this child coming. I don't want her to suffer from postnatal depression or anything."

"I hadn't thought about that," Albus said.

"Mmm… you need more women in your life. Daddy, I'm thinking about staying with you and Mum for a bit. Just until we can get her back on her feet, so to speak," she said.

"That may be a good idea. I'll talk to your mum about it," Albus said.

"Yes. Please do. I've got to go home. Sandy, I'm sure, will want to hear the news and I'm not sure he'll be all that thrilled to share me with Mum, especially with her being pregnant and all. You know how protective he is," Susan said.

"I still can't believe you married a dog," her father said smiling.

"I didn't," she sighed, "I married an Animagus. They're much worse. Who knew there were so many of them? I'm just glad he isn't a werewolf. Sorry you couldn't make it to the ceremony. It was really beautiful."

"What me? I probably would have muddled the whole thing up, crying through it all. No, you wouldn't have wanted me to come to your wedding," Albus said, "How are you going to stay with us with Sandy? Is he coming too?"

"No, I wouldn't dream of it," she said, "He's been trying to be more tolerant, what with her… state and all, but I still don't think he likes Mum. No. I was planning on spending weeknights here and weekends at home. When it really matters, you know? So I can spend weekends with him and stay here weekdays. We haven't kids, you know, like Lizzy and Tim."

"I know. Still doesn't seem quite fair to him, does it?"

She sighed, "I know. Just think about it, ok Dad? I've got to go. Give my love to Mum."

She pecked him on the cheek and disapparated into the night.

He sighed heavily and turned back towards their house. The one that they had shared so much laughter, love and tears in. It wasn't over, he decided.

That night she woke in tears yet again. His face was bleeding where she had clawed it in her sleep as he was trying to calm her.

She was going crazy, she thought to herself as he rose up to get a wet towel. She couldn't keep living like this. She must be crazy, must be simply batty.

But all he could do once he had pressed the wet towel to his face was lie down next to her on the bed and beckon her to his arms.

"Stay away from me, Albus. All I do is hurt things." She was afraid of everything. Especially herself.

He shook his head, "Not this time, Minerva, Not this time. Come here. You haven't hurt anything. So I'm bleeding. You are too, deeper than I am. Come here."

He finally coaxed her into resting her head against his chest. Ever so slowly he stroked her long dark hair.

"Minerva?" he whispered.

She looked up at him.

"What do you dream about?"

She looked at him confused, "I thought you knew what I dream about."

He shook his head, "No, actually, you've never told me."

"You mean, you've never asked," she said softly but bitterly.

He sighed, "No, you're right. I've just assumed I knew. But now I am asking. What do you dream about?"

She looked at him skeptically, then sighed and put her head against his chest again. She didn't say anything for a long while.

"Him," she finally whispered.

"Who?" Albus asked gently.

"Gell… him. Grindelwald," she choked on the words.

"But what do you dream about?"

She coughed, trying to hold back the tears that would never stop. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, trying to push away the tears.

"What do you care?" there was so much bitterness in her voice.

"Minerva," he whispered, "Don't do this. Don't close up. I just… I want to understand you. I want to feel your pain. How is your pain ever going to stop if you just keep letting it sit there and fester? Please tell me. I just want to love you and this is the only way I know how."

There was so much she could tell him, wanted to tell him, but the words stuck in her throat.

"Please," he whispered desperately.

Oh, he would feel her pain. She would make him feel it. But then, he was right. She needed him to feel it. Maybe then she wouldn't hurt so badly.

"I… we're in a room. It's just him and me. It's very, very cold but there are blankets everywhere. I'm wrapped in them. He's wrapped me in them, so tight I can't move. He takes off the blankets, but for some reason, I still can't move, I'm still wrapped in them, even though I'm naked. I try and struggle, but he just laughs. I scream, but no one can hear me," she started.

"You're in a bed?" he asked perplexed. He didn't remember anything about a bed in the caverns. She had never said anything about a bed, never. He hadn't known about any bed. Mirrors, yes. He had been there then, mirrors and chains, but a bed? Blankets? Maybe her mind had fabricated it, he though to himself, but then… maybe there was more to the story than he thought he knew.

She nodded, "It's small. And in a corner. He's blocked the door… and there's the wall. I try beating against it and against him, but he keeps laughing, but quietly, in my ear. He keeps touching me. All over," she shivered suddenly as if it were all real again, "I just want his hands off me, but he says I like it. I know I don't, but something says I do… and he… isn't gentle. Every time. I keep trying to fight it, but I always end up losing."

He wanted to ask about the bed, but stopped. She had told him so much. He knew why she cried at night now.

"He's never going to touch you ever, ever again, Minerva. Thank you. Thank you so much for sharing," he kissed her forehead.

She was rubbing her stomach as she leaned up against her pillows. It was no longer flat, but it wasn't quite misshapen yet. There was just a gentle rise in her stomach.

"What do you think," he asked quietly, holding his knees, looking at her, "will it be a boy or a girl?"

She shook her head, "I don't know"

"I love you."

"I…" she knew what she wanted to say back but the words did not want to come to her lips, "thank you. For listening."

He looked at her, knowing what she had intended to say and nodded, "You're welcome."

She turned over and was soon asleep. But he stayed up for a long time, gazing at his wife.

(A/N: Bit of a long chapter ain' it? What can I say? I'm procrastinating. I hate finals with a fiery passion. Make my muse happy and review. If I get enough, cough, cough maybe I'll procrastinate just a bit longer.)


	13. Weapons and Wands

She was shaken far too roughly from her sleep and pulled up to her feet only to fall down again as the ligaments in her legs had not been healed, merely the skin over them. This soldier whom she did not know yelled and cursed at her in German. He dragged her over to the corner of the room and threw a pile of grayed and tattered clothing at her. She stared blankly at them until he began yelling again furiously before grabbing a fistful of hair and pushing her head towards the clothes.

Her foggy mind suddenly understood what she was to do. She began pulling on the coarse clothes gingerly. She fumbled with the buttons on the coat and pants that were too big for her. The soldier yelled at her again, presumably to go faster, she didn't know, but she tried, pulling on hole filled socks and ill-fitting boots over feet which wouldn't work for her.

When he decided she was well enough dressed, he called out the door and another soldier came in and together, they dragged her by her arms into an elevator-like room where they reached the top floor. They pulled her out into a clearing and propped her up next to a tree, pulling her up to kneel with her hands behind her back. One of the soldiers took out his wand and conjured ropes out of the ivy that was laced around the tree. Making sure her wrists were tied tight in front of her, they tied her to the tree. They took out a rag and pushed it deep into her mouth and took out a piece of tape and taped it across her mouth.

Then one of the soldiers took a gun out of his holster and charmed so it floated at her temple. He then leaned over, grinning into her face. She flinched as he patted her cheek, said a few words in German gesturing to the gun and walked away. While she, being from a pureblood family, had never actually encountered a gun before, it did not fail to produce the heart stopping fear that the cold metal inspired against her skin. She was really too tired to think. All she could do was wait in the unsettling silence.

Soon there was the sound of foot fall in the forest. The crunching came closer and closer. It was followed by other snapping and the breaking of branches. Her breath quickened as did her pulse. Her catlike ears picked up every small crunch and turned it into a deafening crack. The pace of the approaching party increased. The brush in front of her wavered and parted.

"Minerva!" Albus was thrilled to see his wife still alive and apparently still all right. He dropped to his knees in front of the tree where she was tied. She stayed rigid. She had not forgotten the cold metal against her brow. She dared not move her head. Albus noted the gun and reached up carefully to see if he could possibly break the charm.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," said a cold voice behind them. The whole troop that followed Albus into the clearing raised their wands ready to attack that cold voice in the darkness, "Tell them to drop their wands."

Albus rose and stared into the darkness but didn't say anything.

"Tell them to drop them or the gun goes off, and believe me, at that range, there is no spell that could stop that bullet," the voice said angrily.

Albus remained silent. She, the love of his life, threatened. But there were so many others.

"If she means nothing to you, then perhaps the greater population of muggles means something. All I need do is signal and the concentration camps will be liquidated. All of them into the flames," the darkness mused, "And after them go the rest of the population."

Albus sighed deeply and put out his hand, signaling them to drop their wands. Grindelwald then stepped out into the moonlight.

"So very predictable," he chortled, "So very, very predictable. Still ever the lover of muggles, eh? Even after what they did to your sister?"

"And what about what you did to my sister? You shan't be forgiven for that. And you know as well as I that she had that form of epilepsy," Albus sighed, pained by the memory, "What about me? Shall I drop my wand also? Bow to you, perhaps? Grovel for my life?"

"No, no… you shall keep your wand until I take it from you. Tell your men to step back, into the forest."

"If I do…?"

"Don't worry that old bearded head of yours. I swear to you upon my life, that they shall not be harmed while you are alive."

"If that be the case, then by all means, I dare you to touch one of them. They are all ready to give up their lives to see you dead. If harming one of them means that I have the full and unhindered authority to kill you, they would much rather see it done."

"You always were clever, but far be it from me to put my life in someone else's hands, especially of someone who may drop it."

"You underestimate my capabilities, Gellert,"

"Never, old friend, never. But do tell your friends to move back. Heaven forbid I should hit them with a stray spell and go back on my promises. I wouldn't want any of them interfering with my revenge."

Albus signaled his men to move back into the darkness. They retreated slowly, taking their wands with them.

Grindelwald scowled at this disobedience to his direct orders, but didn't say anything. It would not be difficult at all to overpower the men once their leader was dead.

"Then it is to be you and me?"

"Yes, and only you and me. Oh, don't worry, my men are in the darkness, too, awaiting my orders. But I give you my word, they will not attack until you are dead."

"You sound so sure of yourself,"

Grindelwald laughed, "How can I not be? How can I lose? I have the perfect wand."

"Yes," Albus returned, "But that says nothing for your form or technique, just how much of a handicap you need."

Grindelwald growled, "I'll have to fix that clever tongue of yours, Albus,"

The wizards had begun to circle each as do wrestlers in a ring, their wands poised and ready.

"Is this then," Grindelwald said, "To be a fair fight?"

Albus bowed, "Well, my dear friend, I would say yes, but knowing your fighting tactics, I would stick to the old saying: 'all is fair in love and war.'"

Grindelwald returned the bow, "How well you know me. perhaps then, one rule may be made, just to keep the sport of it."

"And what is that?"

They continued to circle as they moved, trying to guess the other's first attack.

"No killing curses shall be used."

"But how, then, how am I to be killed?"

"Any deaths to be issued shall be at the hands of the other, not through their wand."

"Sounds fair enough," shrugged Dumbledore, "I won't use one if you don't."

"Good then, let us begin!" he said as a jet of light erupted from the wand.

(A/N: Well… now it's really getting interesting. Umm, I am dealing with the semester from hell… so if you want me to write more, I'd suggest reviewing more… you know… for encouragement's sake. Tell me if things are coherent and if things are fitting well, etc.)


	14. Remembering

"Come on, Mum, out of bed," said a cheery voice.

"Hmmm? What time is it?" she replied, rubbing her eyes and pulling her blankets further up.

"Eight o' clock," answered Susan pulling the blankets off the bed entirely.

Minerva cringed, instinctively pulling her legs up towards her body and reached for the blankets which were now on a pile on the floor, "Are you crazy? What do you mean by coming in here and waking me up? Leave me alone!"

Susan drew her wand and vanished the blankets, "Un uh. You get out of bed now. You've been in bed nine hours now and it's a beautiful day. Sleep anymore and you're going to miss it."

She looked at her daughter angrily, "I'll get up when I'm good and ready."

"You'll get up now," she said putting her hands on her hips, "You did this to me when I was a kid, now you're behaving childishly, so I'm returning the favor. All this moping about the house, feeling sorry for yourself. It's not good for you or the baby."

"Why do you care?" she said laying back against the pillow and folding her hands on her stomach, trying to regain control. 

Susan vanished her pillow also.

"I care very much. It's my sibling after all. And it's your child. That's good enough for me," she retorted.

"Since when did you get to be so fresh?"

"I've always been fresh. So have you. Now get out of bed," Susan said sternly, peering over her glasses.

Minerva was determined not to give up. She reached for Albus' pillow, but that disappeared, too. Minerva scowled and reached for her wand, "Out of my room!"

"Out of your room or what? Are you going to get dressed?"

"OUT!" an invisible hand pushed her daughter out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

Half an hour later, she emerged from the bedroom, dressed for the first time before noon in nearly two weeks, and almost tripped over the neatly folded pile of bedding Susan had left just outside the door. She growled and picked them up making her bed carefully. It was a small task and yet she found a distinct sense of accomplishment in it. She looked at it fully made and sighed. She sat on the bed and traced the patterns with her fingers. The shapes moved at her touch, the charmed thread erupting in a swirling kaleidoscope of colors. It was an old family heirloom that had been passed down for generations. Such magical materials were hard to come by these days and when one did find them, they were expensive and lost their magical qualities after only a few years.

This quilt had been made by her great-great-great grandmother and had been passed down through the women in the family. She had received it when her mother was found dead three years after her father was killed by a power hungry wizard who had been brought to justice, but only after taking the lives of several important and just people in the Ministry. She shuddered at the cold memory.

"Remembering?" asked a tentative voice at her doorway. She held out a mug of dark liquid, "I made you some coffee."

She took the warm mug and held it up to her nose.

"Not strong enough," she said, swirling the liquid slowly.

Susan put her hand on her hip, "how do you know? You haven't even tried it."

"Sensitive nose, remember?" she tapped her nose and took a slow gulp, "Mmmhmm. I was right."

"Really?" she in sarcastic disbelief and took a swallow from her own mug. She looked down at it, "Hmmm. You may be right."

"You tried by magic didn't you?"

"Huh? How do you know?"

"Well. The only muggle device I ever use and know how to operate properly is their coffee machines. And French press isn't too hard to figure out," she returned her attention to the blanket which was still spiraling slowly.

"Pretty, isn't it?" her daughter asked, drinking her coffee.

"Mmm," Minerva answered, lost in deep thought, "You know, you all were conceived in this bed."

Susan grimaced and nearly gagged, "That is far too much information."

She sighed and shrugged, "That doesn't make it any less true. We were so in love then, without a care in the world, except of course, keeping our marriage secret. It was really his bed at the time, your father's. Had to sneak into his office very late at night after all the students had been to bed and hoped that no one noticed the strange cat slinking around the hallways late at night."

She paused, sighing, "I wonder what happened."

"Life happened, mother. Come on now. I know you two used to be a randy pair of newlyweds, but I'm sure those times are not over. You've just got to get back on your feet and Dad needs to stop being such and old git," Susan said, "Now come on. We've a lot to do today and I don't want to spend the whole day indoors."

"What are we doing?" Minerva said looking up.

"Well for starters, we've got to get you some maternity clothes. You're not going to fit in those robes forever," Susan said.

Minerva groaned, "I'm not there yet."

"Well, nonetheless, you'll be there soon. And we have to start looking for a crib and clothes and other things for the baby," Susan continued.

"Nonsense. We still have one of the cribs from when you were born and…"

Susan rolled her eyes, "Mother, that stuff is ancient. You won't want to be caught dead dragging all that old stuff out. Besides, this child deserves all new things. This is a new life. There are new memories to be made. Come on."

In less than half an hour they found themselves walking along the streets of Hogsmead, gazing into windows and stepping into shops.

"Must they all stare like that?" Minerva whispered.

"Stare like what?" Susan answered, "No one's staring, Mum."

"Yes, they are. I swear they are," Minerva whispered back nervously pulling at her bag.

"No, Mum. You're just paranoid. Tell me, is this the first time you've been out on the street since coming back?"

She shook her head no.

"Doctor's visits don't count," Susan said.

"No?"

"No."

"Alright then, yes."

"I thought so. We need to get you out more often," Susan sighed.

"Well… I used to take walks at night…"

"And Dad let you do that?! I'm going to need to have a talk with him…"

"Well, he had Fawkes follow me about. Dunno if he thought I couldn't see him or what. It's a bit hard to miss a fiery red and golden bird flying about at night," she said, shrugging.

"Still… alone?"

"It gave me time to think," she reasoned.

Her daughter looked at her skeptically, "Think? Mum, that's all you ever do, think. Thinking is not always good, you can dwell on things that are meant to be forgotten or forgiven that never will be if you blow them out of proportion with thinking."

"Perhaps. When did you get to be so wise?"

"Genetics." 

"Probably."

(A/N: Ugg… I think they're getting longer. Well… have a good read! I sacrificed Statistics for this… which is not much of a sacrifice come to think of it… enjoy. Yay! It's getting lighter! But next chapter should, once again, be interesting. We shall see.)


	15. The Battle Begins

Albus dodged as a burst of purple flames shot forth from his opponent's wand. A spell came from his own lips, "_Incendio!" _

"_Aguamenti!"_ he said blocking the curse,_ "_Come on, Old man, you can do better than that! _Piquer!" _

A yellow flash seared Albus' left arm. Albus grabbed his arm, crying out in pain as it swelled, stinging badly.

Grindelwald made the mistake of chuckling in his momentary victory. Albus, his eyes watering from the pain, snarled and brandished his wand, _"Deprimo!"_

Grindelwald was sent hurling back into a tree. He wheezed as he fell to the ground on all fours, gasping for breath as the force of the spell knocked the air out from his lungs.

Albus pointed his wand towards his swollen arm and muttered, "_Episky," _hoping it would bring him some relief from his arm which now felt like it was on fire. He noticed Grindelwald struggling to rise to his feet and shouted, "_Asthme"_

He immediately hunched over again, unable to breathe.

"_Curavito," _Albus said to his arm which, under the stronger spell, stopped throbbing. He then stood up to his opponent and raised his wand, "_tag—"_

But before he could finish the spell- "_Sanglante!" _Grindelwald gasped, still out of breath.

Albus shouted in surprise as his right wrist began flowing, strangely painlessly with blood. He was soon unable to grip his wand because of the lack of blood flowing to it and dropped it. Grindelwald took this opportunity to shout, _"Estafilade vite!" _

But Albus ducked as a ray of light shot just above his ear, cradling his bloody wrist. He tried to pick up his wand, but without the blood flowing to his hand, it was impossible to curl his fingers around it. He picked up his wand with his left hand and shouted. "_Conjuctivivus acute!"_

Unfortunately, the spell went wide. It only grazed the side of his opponent's face. Grindelwald's eyes went a bit pink for a second, but the spell didn't have the full effect. It was enough to distract him though.

He had to get a better shot, but he couldn't do that with the wand not in his good hand. He crouched behind a stump. He tried a healing spell but couldn't concentrate. The blood was flowing slower, but it hadn't stopped. He tore his robe and wrapped it tight around his wrist to stop the blood. He tried swishing the wand in his right hand, but he still couldn't grip it. He quickly tore off another piece of his robe and tied his wand onto his fist.

"Come on, Old boy! Looks like your aim isn't what it used to be, eh?" he said with a harsh laugh, _"Estafilade vite!" _he tried again with a sweep of his arm.

"_Protego!" _Albus said, causing the most of the spell that Grindelwald cast to go shooting back at him. But the spell and the wand used to cast it were far too powerful. Albus ducked back down as the spell splintered the wood of the stump. Grindelwald cried out in fury and pain as the spell rebounded, covering his face with shallow but long lacerations and tearing his upper robes into shreds.

"_CONFRINDO!" _he roared angrily. The stump behind which Albus was hiding shattered violently sending shards of wood ripping through Albus' robes. Fortunately, the Shield spell hadn't completely worn off. Albus threw off his heavy outer robe and with it, most of the larger chunks although millions of tiny splinters riddled the skin of his back. Blood oozed slowly from the small wounds, stinging sharply.

"Alright, lad, if that's the way you want it," Albus said rearing up, now angry as he vowed he would never again become, _"LOCOMOTOR MORTIS!"_

Grindelwald's legs froze as they were and would not move. He tried to curse his opponent, but Albus moved so Grindelwald had to twist his torso awkwardly in order to get a proper aim. He sent curse after curse over his shoulder, blindly trying to hit Albus. Albus had other plans.

"Ha! What an idiotic spe—," Grindelwald started before a rock hit him hard in the shoulder. He hunched in pain. Another rock came flying and another and another. One hit him in the back of the head and he began to bleed. He bruised where the rocks hit him harder and harder each time. Each rock seemed to fly from a different direction. What was more, he could not figure out the counter-spell because he wasn't sure which flying spell Dumbledore had used on the rocks. He focused on his legs which were still frozen with the spell. Yes, he needed to free them first.

"_Locomotor…" _a rock cut his cheek sharply. What was that damn counter spell? Locomotor… locomotor what? Mo… mobilis? No… no… legs…what could…

He couldn't concentrate with all the rocks large and small pummeling him, "_Protego!"_

The rocks which came from the front started to repel. One especially large one hit him in the centre of the back. He nearly dropped his wand as his face contorted in pain. He had to try some spell, he had to get out of reach of these infernal rocks.

"_Locomotor movillicorps!"_ he said flicking his wrist down. His legs freed and he dropped to his stomach. The rocks went flying through where he had been standing and into the trees around them.

"Dumbledore?!" he looked around from his place on the ground. But it was all silent.

"Albus, you bastard, come out and fight!"

Suddenly, he was hurled backwards into a tree. Then he, like a rag doll, was flung into another tree. He hit the ground on all fours, coughing and wheezing.

"Damn you, man!" he said clutching his chest in pain, "_Homenum Revelio!"_

An orange dome, visible only to Grindelwald flashed out for a millisecond and there in the trees, a figure stood, invisible, in a fiery, silent orange.

"I see you Old Man." Grindelwald smiled, his wand poised, _"Crucio!"_

The orange figure instantly became visible, dropping to his knees in agony.

"Ha ha, I have you now, you devil," he twisted his wand causing the figure on the ground to writhe, "Like a worm on a hook. _Crucio!"_

Albus couldn't think. All of his nerves were on fire. His very bones seemed to be breaking themselves from within. His skin felt as if it were tearing itself from his muscles, trying to escape the burning. His eyes were scorching and his stomach twisted in agony. He held up his bound hand, the one his wand could not leave and uttered in desperation, _"Expelliarmus"_

The spell lacked its full power, but the wand did drop from its owner's hand. The pain eased as the spell stopped.

"Trying to fight back, eh, Albus? Still trying?" he said as he picked up his wand.

(A/N: Most of the spells are from the books. Any spells not from the books are derived from French or Italian. Things are getting pretty fired up. We'll just have to see what happens now.)


	16. Glimmers

Of course, she didn't know

"My God, Albus, this is not all about you!" she yelled angrily, "You think I want to be like this? Don't think for one second that you are the only person in this world who has suffered."

She paused puffing a bit out of breath.

"Have you said what you wanted to say?" he answered calmly.

"No I… oh!" her hand flew to her stomach which now protruded quite a ways although she had much longer to go before the baby was due.

"What is it?" Albus asked, suddenly very concerned.

"It… it kicked…" she said fingering the spot where she had felt the gentle kick. He approached her slowly and rather cautiously.

"Minerva…"

"_What_ Albus?" she said a bit more venomously than intended.

He looked at her, irritably hurt. He threw up his hand, "Never _mind_"

"_Don't_ 'never mind' me! What is it?"

"No, it doesn't matter. At least not to you. And it couldn't _possibly_ matter to me, _I_ don't have feelings. We've established _that_," he said angrily.

She sighed heavily, seething, "What _is_ it, Albus?"

"I'm… I'm tired of fighting…" he said wearily.

She thought about that silently. That's certainly all they had been doing for the past five months. Silent fights and loud fights and fighting even when there was nothing to fight about.

She sighed leaning back.

"My head hurts," she said shakily, "what I wouldn't do for a scotch…"

"Don't even think about drinking with that…"

"I _know,_ Albus! I have to keep the damn baby healthy. Nevermind what it would do to _me!_" she snapped.

"Oh no, I'm with you. I could do with a good stiff drink myself," he said taking off his glasses, rubbing his eyes.

She rubbed her arm tiredly.

"I guess I am, too," she said finally.

"What?"

"I guess I'm tired of fighting, too," she said softly, refusing to look at him lest he see the emotion welling up in her eyes.

He studied her slowly, "Then what do you want to do about it?"

"I wish you'd left me, Albus. You don't need this. You could have been free of all this wretched business," she said quietly.

"What would you have done?"

"I could have lived without you…"

"Could you?"

"I would have made it somehow…" she said continuing to rub her arm.

"Really?" he said skeptically. He approached her slowly. She didn't appear to notice and nor could she go anywhere even if she had for she was backed against the counter.

"I imagine so…" she said not really believing it herself.

She flinched as he caught her hand. She made a half-hearted attempt to pull it away from his as he turned her hand over in his, stroking her palm gently.

"Minerva, I know I wasn't much help to you in those first months… I don't imagine I've been much help since, but would you really have been better without me?"

She stared at her hand in his, "I… I… could… I…"

He moved his hand up her wrist and rubbed his thumb up and down a long puffy scar down her forearm. Her green eyes looked deep into his blue eyes for the first time in a long time without any anger but not without pain.

"Minerva, when I found you that night… with that knife in your hand… and there was blood all over the bathroom… I thought my heart was going to stop… I didn't know if I was going to be able to heal you fast enough…"

She withdrew her hand quickly with a sharp intake of breath, "I thought we were never going to talk about that night ever again."

"We can't pretend it didn't happen, Minerva. We can't pretend anymore… I was so scared… scared you weren't going to drink the potion to replenish the blood either…"

Crimson stained her memory of that night… she hadn't realized there would be so much blood. But it didn't hurt that much… not after the first cut… just so much red against the silver and the white porcelain. The room was hazy and she just remembered the rushed click of his heels and the black shine to his shoes. Everything was swimming in that haze. Voices were so far away. Only one voice…

"_Minerva! Minerva!"_

Fire burned her arm as he clumsily tried to stop the blood with his hands, but it ran all over his fingers, dripping down his wrists.

"_Minerva…Shit. Minerva, come back to me…"_ he tapped her cheek sharply with a blood drenched hand.

She felt a wand against the wound. She tried to pull back. No… no… it had to bleed. Then the pain would end forever. She would never have to look into his eyes again. Those eyes that used to laugh but now just looked at her with distain. She was carrying another's child…

She felt a cold vial against her lips and a familiar taste on her tongue. She knew that taste. That taste that would bring healing. No… no… just let it end. She coughed, trying to spit it out.

"_Just let me die…"_

He pushed the vial against her lips again.

"_No… no… you can't die!" _

Salty tears scorched the open wound.

"_Just let me go… I'm no good anymore…"_

"_Minerva, you can't die! I… what am I going to do without you? I can't breathe without you…"_

"_Oh God… please… I'm not brave. I can't live this anymore. Please…" _

"_But you are! You can…"_

A bright light burst into the room. She felt the warmth of a fire very near her as pearly drops dripped into her arm and a ghostly song filled the air.

She thought her life must be slipping and suddenly she was very sad for it. When she felt the cold vial touch her lips again she let the liquid slide down her throat before she fell into a deep sleep. There were dreams that night… terrible dreams, stretching and shrinking and turning tumbling over and over in her mind. And voices! Other voices… it seemed like millions of them.

"_Poppy… Poppy what am I going to do? She… she was almost gone… I… a few more minutes and she would have been gone forever…She was going to leave me… and the children…"_

"_Albus… It isn't your fault…"_

"_Oh, yes it is! I couldn't save her before and I almost couldn't save her now… Fawkes just barely… Poppy…"_

"_Quiet Albus… it isn't your fault…And there's no use now, she isn't dead…"_

So many voices… but Poppy was there… why hadn't he married someone like Poppy… quiet Poppy who loved everyone and never would have gotten herself into a mess like this…

"_Shh, shh… go to sleep next to your wife here…"_

"_No… no… I'm not fit to touch her…She can't stand anyone touching her…"_

"_Albus… you said you were sleeping in the same bed again…"_

"_But only just…"_

"_Albus, she needs your love…"_

"_She has it! She's always had it…"_

"_But she doesn't know it! She isn't sure of it and she won't be sure of it for a long time…"_

So many dreams. So very many dreams.

"_She doesn't deserve me. She deserves better… she deserves better…"_

That must have been a dream. He never said that. He never… he couldn't have said that… no… no… he didn't say that… Just a dream.

"_You can't keep doing this. You were made for each other. Now Albus, get into that bed…"_

The grayness the next morning had been grayer than the day before and it hurt her eyes, but the night before seemed like a bad dream. She almost convinced herself it was until she ran her fingers over the puffy scar which had formed on her arm.

"Minerva? What are we going to do? We can't keep fighting… we just can't do it anymore…"

She inhaled deeply, coming out of the abyss of her thoughts, "What would you like to do?"

"Stop fighting," Albus said again.

"How are we going to occupy our time elsewise?"

"We could start over… sort of… I mean… Why don't we go out tonight?"

She looked outside, "It's already very late…"

"Come on, there are places we can go… we can get that drink…"

"But I can't—"

"No alcohol… just a beverage of some sort… come on… let's just go like we used to before all this rot," he said gently taking her arm.

She looked at him. His face was tired. He was so much older now, years and years older. But then again so was she.

"Alright," she said finally, with the traces of a smile on her lips.

(A/N: I was delightfully encouraged by the reviews of last time… I hope you all enjoy this chapter… It took forever to think of what to write, but my muse suddenly came back upon a recent review… the short chapters are because I don't want to give away too much too quickly…)


	17. Fair Fight

"Expelliarmus

"_Expelliarmus!" _Albus said again from his position on the ground.

The wand flew once again from his opponent's hand, this time flying farther.

"Using the same spell twice in a row? Tsk, tsk bad form, Dumbledore, bad form," Grindelwald said shaking his head, "_Accio—" _

"_Incarcerous!"_ Albus said rising to his feet and squaring his shoulders.

Grindelwald's eyes bulged and he turned to dodge the spell, but his arms snapped to his sides as ropes wound themselves around his body tighter and tighter. He struggled against them as they wrapped around his legs causing him to sway as he began to lose his footing.

"Yes, I'll use the same spell twice if it gets the job done… no worse than using Unforgivable curses in the middle of a duel. _Incarcerous!"_ Albus said flicking his wrist a second time. Another layer of ropes wrapped themselves around the first layer covering anything that was still showing below Grindelwald's neck. Still the wizard stood gritting his fang-like teeth in a feral growl.

"I'll kill you Albus, I swear. When I get out of this…"

"You mean _if_ you get out of this," Albus said smiling grimly. He stooped over and picked up Grindelwald's dark wand.

"Oh I will… I have followers who are—"

Albus' fist connected with his face before he finished his sentence. Grindelwald toppled backwards with this, his fall only slightly cushioned by the thick layers of rope, the air knocked out of him.

"As do I," he said surprisingly calm in spite of his last action. He hefted up the bound wizard and popped him against a tree, "And they'll come as I bid. Now bid yours."

Grindelwald just growled from his bound position.

"Go on, All Powerful Wizard, call your minions. Come on!" he said, again, almost unnaturally calm for the volume of his voice.

"Come on, or I'll—" he put the dark wand up to Grindelwald's throat.

Grindelwald swallowed at the sight. He looked up into Albus' serious face and opened his mouth. At first, no words came out only a whisper.

"Louder, come on, where are they?" Albus said grinding the wand into Grindelwald's throat.

"Angriff!" Grindelwald shouted.

Shouts from all through the forest rose up and darts of light pierced the trees.

"Attack!" Albus shouted, "Come on men! Grindelwald's down!"

Shouts of jubilance rang through the other side of the forest and even more rays of light sprang out of the depths until it was almost as bright as day as they ran at each other through the trees.

"Ihr Führer ist unten! Grindelwald ist unten!" Albus shouted, magically amplifying his voice.

Cries of fury and screams of defeat, rose up from the darkness. The shots of light increased tenfold from all sides.

"Lügen!Lügen!" Gindelwald shouted, but his shouts were not heard over the noise, "Lies! Lies! I am… I am alive! I have not been defeated! I…"

"Silence, you!" Albus shouted, "You have been defeated. Oh, you have. Your empire has been lost. Your little dreams of holding humans in bondage, all lost. Stupid move, killing off so many. You'll be remembered forever now as a failure. And not even among muggles who you so wanted to remember you. Remember YOU, not Hitler, not your little sock-puppet. They will never know the master puppeteer who pulled the strings. You've ruined it for yourself."

One by one, figures emerged from the forest into the clearing dragging with them what enemies they had brought down. Those dark creatures and wizards and witches who emerged from the forest from Grindelwald's side fled immediately at the sight of their leader in bonds.

"D'you think they're gone, Albus?" asked one of his men.

"No," Albus answered, his wand still at the base of his enemy's throat, "they've gone to regroup. They won't have given up so easily. I imagine there's grave punishment for that, isn't there, Gellert?"

"Albus— Minerva!" shouted one the Order.

"What?" he stood shocked for a moment, forgetting that his wife in bondage, or at least was at the last time he had seen her… before the spells started flying. He suddenly hoped he had gotten her out of the way before the battle had begun. She could have been hit in the cross fire… just like his sister so many years ago… but he wouldn't think of that now.

"Where is Minerva?" shouted the same voice, "She was with you the last we saw of her. Where is she?"

"She… She's tied to a tree..." he ran towards where she was tied. The gun still floated and the rope hung slack at the base of the tree, but Minerva was not there. Suddenly the gun turned, with snake-like speed and fired towards Albus, hitting him in the right shoulder. Albus clenched his teeth and shouted in pain, falling to the ground, cupping his shoulder. His men rushed to his side, but he waved them away emphatically. Rising, he took angry strides towards where Grindelwald was standing.

"Where is she!?" he demanded angrily, still cupping his bleeding shoulder, "Where is she? I swear… I'll…"

He was overrun by emotion. She couldn't take much more, he knew. He just wanted to know where his wife was. But Grindelwald let out a wheezing chuckle, "You'd like to know, wouldn't you?"

"Where is she?" he repeated, pleadingly, "Please, where's Minerva?"

Grindelwald looked up through the trees, "It's going to be a beautiful morning, isn't it? Germany will just be finding out that their muggle leader has died at his own hand. Won't it be a lovely day?"

Albus punched him weakly with his bad arm, "Where is she!?" he screamed again.

But Grindelwald shook it off, leaning his head back up against the tree and smiled again cruelly, "Ah, but they'll continue you know… the camps will be liquidated now, you know, 'it's what the Führer would have wanted' you see. And those good little Nazis always do what the Führer would want."

"What do you mean?" Albus said standing back aghast at what Grindelwald had just said.

"The weak ones will go first, you see," Grindelwald continued distantly, "The ones who can't walk… who can't run… they'll be shot, you know, and then pushed into the flames, probably before they've even lost consciousness."

"You Bastard!" Albus said throwing his tied enemy to the ground, kicking his face until blood poured from his nose. The Order rushed in to pull Albus away to keep him from killing Grindelwald.

Albus stood back for a long while pacing slowly, looking carefully at his still bleeding enemy who was chuckling softly with a cruel fanged grin on his face. He had lost his temper. Grindelwald held deep power over him now that he had lost it. He was no longer in charge of the situation. Grindelwald may be bound, and he may have lost his wand, but he still had the power. He had to calm himself if his wife was ever to return to him. Control, this was all about control. They picked up Grindelwald and propped him back against the tree.

"So," Albus said quietly upon his return, "My wife has been taken to a concentration camp, then, is that it? Pity."

He took out his tin of lemondrops and popped one into his mouth then offered the tin to his tied and bleeding enemy, "Have one? No," he shook his head, "Of course not, how silly of me." He put his tin away and continued, nonchalantly, "Now then. Taken to the incinerators I suppose, along with the rest of them, hmm? Cremated all of them, I guess. Poor souls. Ah well," he said beginning to pace unconcernedly, "Now, what to do with you. That is a good question. We can't kill you. No, no, no, you want to see your empire rise to the top, don't you? 'Rule the World! Conquer All! Wizarding folk reign supreme' and all that rot, right?"

He nodded at his own statement, "Yes, besides, that would be too noble, wouldn't it, to die at the hands of your enemy? Yes, too good for you. make you too much of a hero, won't it? I can see it now," he put his hands up as if framing the next morning's headlines, " 'Wizard Ruler Murdered at the Hands of British Resistance Forces.' What a headline that would be. No, dear old _friend,_ you must come with us! Show us the way!"

Grindelwald sneered, "Do you honestly expect me to tell you where she is?"

"Honestly? No. Dishonestly, yes. You see, these are desperate times, my _friend_, and as you know, desperate times call for exceedingly desperate measures. Foxsworth!"

"Yes sir?"

"Do we have any Veritaserum?"

"Sir?"

"Veritaserum, man!"

"I'll check sir,"

"Oh please, Albus, Veritaserum? How outdated. You know we're both immune." Grindelwald scoffed.

"Ah yes, brilliant lads, weren't we? How many secrets we pried from each other while testing our strongest potions on each other, Veritaserum. I daresay we did both become immune, but did you know, after we had our little out, all those years ago, I studied under a great Alchemist, Nicolas Flamel was his name. Well, amongst other things, surely you've heard of him, of course. Ah! Here is it, " he said as Foxsworth handed him a small vial, "Veritaserum! How strong is it?"

"Sir?"

"How strong is this potion?"

"Well, it… it's been brewing for five years, sir. It's as strong as Veritaserum can get!"

"Good. Studying with Flamel, we did quite a few experiment, amongst other things, with dragon's blood. Now, did you know how I became the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards? Surely you've heard of my oh-so-famous twelve uses of dragon blood. The truth is, I've actually found fifteen. I simply haven't published three of them. Well, one of those of those three unpublished uses, at least if we use Hungarian Horntail, is to make Veritaserum approximately nine and four-twenty-fifths-times stronger than it usually is, making even those immune, such as us, powerless against it," with that, he uncorked another, larger vial with deep orange liquid in it and poured the Veritasium into it and shook the vial, twice then swirled it in a clockwise motion.

"Foxsworth," he said turning to the wizard who gave him the potion, "do we have any antidote?"

"Yes, of course, but…"

"Good. Add this Norwegian Ridgeback blood to it. Shake twice… and only twice and swirl in a clockwise motion. Now, let us begin."

"Sir, I don't think…"

Albus then swiftly proceeded to pry open Grindelwald's mouth and pour the contents of the vial into his mouth, forcing it shut, then blocking his mouth and nose so he was forced to swallow.

(A/N: Wow. Yeah, sorry I haven't updated in so long. No, I haven't abandoned this, I have great plans for this story. I wanted to end it on April 30th to go with the title and setting, but you know how these things go. School actually ended the thirtieth, so I had finals and had to say good-bye to all my friends. But now, I have some free time so my creativity sparks up and I tend to write more. So yes, kind of left it a cliff-hanger... not really, but kinda. Tell me what you think!)


	18. Winter

Of course, she didn't know

She stood on the porch looking up towards the castle. She was well wrapped in layers of sweaters and tartan. The ground was snowy and the sky was gray, but she had a clear view of the castle. Her sharp nose stung with the cold, but she didn't notice. The door creaked behind her and soon a pair of strong arms wrapped around her. He nuzzled her ear softly. She tilted her head away from the gentle caress but made no attempt to escape from his embrace. He placed his gloved hands on the ungainly curve of her body.

"What are you thinking, darling?"

"Dark thoughts," she sighed.

"Mmm?" he asked. He glanced up in the direction in which her gaze was fixed. She was silent, though.

"What thoughts?"

She sighed again, "Nothing."

"Minerva, darling, I thought we agreed--"

"Yes, yes, I know. It's very difficult though. I don't want to worry you."

"I'm always worried about you."

"I'll probably never teach again."

"What makes you say that?"

"After all this, you know. They'll all know. They'll know who the father was… they'll know me. They won't want me to teach their children the art of transfiguration. They'll think I'll jumble it all up, make it into something dark, evil instead of beauty, skill and integrity."

She paused. Her face was stony and cold. She seemed to regain her air of slender dignity for a few moments. She moved away from him and hugged herself.

"My life work," she said "gone to waste."

He looked at her. Her pale skin was red with cold. Her lips were pouty and chapped from the winter wind.

"My dearest girl," he whispered.

"Girl? Hardly. Woman, long past," she said bitterly.

"Girl," he insisted.

The last few weeks had been good weeks. They had gone by with relatively few incidences. Susan was still visiting, taking care of household obligations for Minerva as by now, Minerva was not her usual slender self. Minerva practiced small spells to pass the time. It was boring but she found herself improving, as if she needed it, at speed and technique. She even improved quite a number of spells that she knew. It kept her mind off of thinking. If she could stop thinking, she could stop worrying. The only thing she thought when she did think was 'what if?'

"What if?" Minerva whispered to the heartless wind.

"What?" Albus said.

"What if?" she repeated.

"What if what, darling?"

"He's going to be the same, I just know it."

He turned her to face him.

"He's not going to be the same." He said firmly. He understood exactly what she meant and it broke his heart.

She recoiled from him and wrapped her blankets tighter around her. She rubbed her swollen stomach.

"You don't know that. What if… Albus, what if he is just like his father?"

"Well, that's silly. You don't even know if it's going to be a boy," he said. Even with the light-heartedness of his comment, he matched the seriousness of her tone.

"Even if it is a she, what if she's cruel… heartless like her father? What if she enjoys seeing other people in pain, helplessly in pain? I don't think any of this will have been worth it. What if she looks like him? What if… when she misbehaves, as all children do, I take it as something more, as his personal vendetta finally playing out on us? What if I take my anger at him out on her? I'd rather die than cause a child pain because of what he did to me."

There was pain in her eyes, but her expression spoke only of the strength of prevailing through hardship. He regarded her. He admired her strength. If every woman had her strength, her courage, the world would be a different place.

"Every child is a new life. Every child deserves to be loved from the start, regardless of how or by whom they came into existence. Perhaps, we can change this whole situation for the better. We will love her, or him, whichever God decides to grace us with, as every child should be loved. We will not forget how she came into existence. We won't forget the fight which brought her into this life. Perhaps we may even love her more for it."

Minerva was silent.

She turned to him. There were no tears, there was no pain in her expression, only cold reality.

"I want you to understand. I want you to understand my fears. I never told you, did I, what happened that night after the platform? You saw the first time he violated me, but you didn't witness the second time. He took me down below, into his tunnels. I was limp as a ragdoll. I couldn't walk and I couldn't fight back. He knew it and took great pleasure in it. It excited him. He healed my wounds, as if he were doing a great mercy to me, but didn't heal my injuries. I was exhausted and he had emptied most of my blood with his various tortures. He pulled that blood-caked dress off my body. My legs still wouldn't work, so it was very easy for him, when he placed me on that little cot, to part my legs.

He was on top of me. He was inside of me. I had no time to process anything of what was going on. He told me over and over that he loved me. He said he loved me as he took what was left of my body. He told me, as he grinned at my helplessness, that you had abandoned me, that you would never love me again, that he had always loved me and that he would be that last person ever to love me. This, Albus, is what I see at night, almost every night, over and over in my mind. This is why I am afraid. That sort of cruelty should never exist. The sort of cruelty that would not simply take delight in the quick, painless death of an enemy, but allow a person to be tortured every possible way and then let them live with the memories."

Albus' knuckles turned white in fury as they clenched the rail of the landing. He hadn't known what had occurred during those few hours. Oh, he had guessed, he had a general idea, but it infuriated him now to know how cruelly his wife had been treated. His heart was murderous. He wanted revenge on the bastard. But it was all too late for that. He had had his revenge. He hadn't killed the man… the coward… when he wanted it so badly, no, he let the bastard live in his cowardice and shame.

"You asked once, why I let him live, Minerva," he said, "you asked why I stopped him from turning his own wand, his own, perfect wand, the one he stole for and killed to protect, against himself. I'll tell you. It was because of that. It was because of his cruelty. He had to live with his shame. It would be too easy for him to have a quick, painless death. He has to live with the guilt now. He is in prison now and forever, mocked by the inmates and hopefully tortured every day for what he did to you and everyone else."

"How do you know he feels guilt? How do you know he will remember the pain he caused everyone else?" she said.

"I don't," he sighed, "It is only my hope that he is human enough."

(A/N:I hope people are still reading this story… I know, I know... this chapter is way overdue. But here it is. I'm going to be up-front about this, but I've turned into a complete review whore. So make me happy, review.)


	19. Truth Telling

His eyes went wide. He sputtered a bit and coughed blue driblets of potion. Albus was afraid he hadn't swallowed any of it. But when he leaned back in his restraints, his eyes were glassy and dilated.

"I'm only going to ask you this once. I hardly need say I expect an honest answer. Now WHERE is my wife?" Albus said viciously.

His yellowy eyes rolled back. He shook his head stupidly, "Where… are we?"

"Albus," said Foxworth uneasily, "Are… are you sure that the potion wasn't too strong? Aren't… aren't they supposed to be expressionless? And why didn't he answer your question."

Albus shook his head.

"No, my friend," he said almost jovially, "We used to practice warding off Veritaserum as boys. It was adolecent child's play… almost like drinking games. How much Veritaserum could we stand before we cracked? We both admitted many things that we never should have. It's true; one must answer truthfully to any question that is asked. It's less painful to answer immediately. He's fighting it. You can fight it by asking questions back seeming as if you are trying to further understand the question so the truth will be as accurate as possible. It's a way to trick the brain and the potion working in conjunction. But he has to answer sooner or later. It's too strong for him. If you just keep asking the same question, each time, the magnitude of difficulty in evading the question grows tenfold. "

"I suppose I shall be forced to ask you a second time. You cannot evade the question too much longer. It will be ever so much easier for you if you just answer truthfully," Albus said, "Where is my wife?"

He cringed and twisted in his bonds at the question. His brain and the potion in his system were fighting for dominance. The yellow whites of his eyes fluttered from behind half-lidded eyes flitting. Suddenly a vacant calm typical of someone under the influence of Veritaserum smoothed over his features. Albus smiled momentarily until Grindelwald answered, "I don't know."

"Didn't the Dragon blood work?" said Foxsworth.

"Oh, it worked. It's another stalling tactic. He technically does not know where she is. That is, he cannot technically verify that she actually _is_ there. He's going to keep avoiding the question until we phrase it very precisely. The Charms professors always did say diction was of utmost importance."

He turned to his enemy "I shall rephrase. Where did they take Minerva McGonagall Dumbledore? And if this is not specific enough for you, where did you command they take Minerva McGonagall Dumbledore? Or if you cannot answer this, where did you order they take my wife in if the case should arise that you were unable to take her yourself?"

But his mind had reconciled with the potion. He had stopped struggling against it.

"You wife. Your wife is most likely at the Niederhagen Concentration Camp. "

"Most likely? Pray, what do you mean?"

"I mean, there is a high probability that she will be there."

"Can you guarantee she is there?"

"I cannot."

"Why can you not guarantee that Minerva is in the Niederhagen Concentration Camp?"

"She may have been moved"

"Why? Where?!" Albus said frantically. He realized that these questions were not specific enough and he needed to be much more specific. "Why would Minerva have been moved from the Niederhagen Concentration Camp and where then would she have been moved to if in fact she has been moved from the place where you ordered her to be originally taken if indeed she was, by your orders she was taken there?"

"Minerva would have been moved because the concentration camps will be liquidated soon. All the prisoners of the concentration camps will be taken, by cattle car to extermination camps in Poland"

"So where, then, do you think she is at this present point in time?"

"She could be anywhere."

"No matter, would she be among the prisoners to be taken from the camp from Niederhagen Concentration Camp in boxcars if it has been liquidated?"

"No"

"Why not?"

"She cannot walk as she is. You've forgotten, we only want the strong and healthy purebloods and mythical beasts. All others must be exterminated to keep the power pure. She is a traitor to the cause and therefore a blood traitor. She is now considered useless, unable to walk, she is not healthy and we do not waste healers' skills on filth. She will be shot and die."

"When?"

"As soon as the order is given."

"When will the order be given?"

"I don't know."

"Why don't you know? Aren't you making the orders still?"

He shook his head, "They would not be following my direct orders anymore. My plans have been compromised. Tonight was to be the night of victory. I made not many plans past tonight except that the concentration camps are to be liquidated. Your wife's death was to herald the order to liquidate the camps. Obviously, plans have changed. I suppose while my victory is still a while off, she could still be shot and the camps liquidated. The S.S. is under my command through my designated leaders, the victims of a mass casting of the Imperius Curse.

I believe it is now up to the leaders. I have not cast the Imperius Curse on them, for I have complete faith in all of them. They are acting under their own volition. She could be very dead, as we speak or they could still be following my orders that she is only to die by my own hands."

"So we are to go to Niederhagen, then?"

He shrugged in his bonds, "If you wish."

Foxworth looked tremendously nervous through the whole interrogation and sighed in relief when Albus turned to him.

"Do you think, sir, that we should give him the antidote now?" he said.

Albus shook his head.

"No. No, we may want more truths out of him. Besides, he doesn't appear to be in too much discomfort."

Indeed, as the potion continued to work, Grindelwald seemed to grow more and more docile and obedient with each moment. His expression gave the appearance of a caged puppy. He seemed to be fighting quietly with himself, possibly rebuking himself for telling the truth, Albus couldn't tell. Albus could hardly think anymore. He was terribly tired. It was still dark out. How was that possible? It seemed like it had been days since the sun had set.

Someone passed around a box of cigarettes. Albus usually didn't smoke, as it was a terrible addiction he needed to think and the smoke, he decided would probably calm his nerves and give his brain a jolt. He took one and lit it with the tip of his wand. He sat down for a moment by the base of one of the trees and reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a map of Germany. The map was shifting restlessly as boxcars left stations and squadrons of airplanes bombed cities. He studied it closely.

He looked up from his map and noticed all his followers staring at him and shifting nervously, awaiting his command. But he didn't know what to do.

"Price," he said finally folding his map, "How long do you think it would take to set up a portkey?"

A gangly man, too thin for his uniform, but with sharp eyes and broad shoulders stepped forward.

"A portkey? Where y' wan' it?"

"I want it to go straight from here to the center of Niederhagen," Albus said.

Price consulted a few of the men standing near him.

"I c'n get uh few fellas t' 'ave un up in jiffy," he said. He threw his cigarette down and extinguished it under his foot.

"I'm sorry, Price,"Albus said. "I'm at a terrible rush for time. Can you be more specific as to how long a 'jiffy' is?"

Price once again consulted the few men standing near him.

"Eh, 'alf-n-hour er so. But then there's no un on th' other side so maybe uh full hour?" Price answered.

Albus took a long drag of his own cigarette and threw the remainder into a puddle. He shook his head, "I'm going to have to try disapparation."

"Can't disapparate into the camps, sir, not for at least a few thousand yards around them either, sir," one of the men pointed out.

"Hmmm," Albus said. He had quite forgotten. Damn them and their magical restrictions. Of course he couldn't disapparate. He couldn't think. He just couldn't think.

"Minerva, where are you?" he asked himself.

"_Albus"_

He jumped. He could have sworn he heard his name but it was so soft, perhaps it was simply the breeze.

"_Albus!" _ came the whispered call yet again with tired urgency. He realized, suddenly, that it was his own Minerva calling him from so far a distance. They were so emotionally attached, at least they had been once, he knew it was she. Her call had been so tired, so exhausted, so desperate. His body chilled over as he realized she was nearing her end. He had to get to her, somehow. Suddenly, he had an idea.

(A/N: Thank you ever so much for being so patient with me and with this story. I dare say it's running away with itself. I do hope you all are enjoying it. I am glad for those of y'all who are still reading. Thank you for all your lovely reviews; I am tremendously flattered by them. I am currently neglecting studying for a midterm right now, so I must get back to work, happy readings!)


	20. Created Child

(A/N: Dear dear friends and readers, after long absence here is the long awaited new chapter. After almost at least six months of absence, probably longer from actual plot line, here it is.)

Two guards with guns stood outside the infirmary, smoking.

"When are we to hear from the Führer?" one asked puffing smoke out into the early morning air.

"Well," said the other, flicking the ashes off his cigarette, "I was told that the gathering did not go off very well tonight. They say Hitler is dead. The Americans will find him soon. But Grindelwald was met in the woods by some British bastards."

He tapped the wand in his pocket.

"We were told to expect anything. There should be a group Portkeying in from Walpurgis anytime now. They said they had some injured and some prisoners," he said. He looked at his companion and laughed heartily. "Don't look so worried! I've seen Grindelwald curse 400 people with one spell. I don't think there's any chance for those British pigs."

His companion smiled briefly then put out his cigarette quickly and stood at attention, "Here they come!"

Suddenly a few dozen wizards, witches and mythical creatures appeared outside the gate, some carrying other wizards. The guards went out to greet them.

"What's this? Is this all? I thought there would be more!" one of the guards said.

"They were too strong! Those British bastards captured the Führer!" a wizard with a bloody mouth said before spitting out a few of his teeth.

"My god! What now?" the guard asked.

The little crowd parted slowly as a man came pushing forward holding a limp woman in his arms.

"I'm in charge here," he said loudly, "Take us to the infirmary immediately. Grindelwald will follow us shortly."

"I'm sorry, but I heard he was captured," the guard said.

"He was. He said he would meet us here in the instance that he was captured," said the man, "Quick, take us to the infirmary. I will show you my papers when we get there. I have to set this lump down." He lifted the body slightly higher.

When they got to the infirmary the man holding the woman motioned towards the guards.

"You two clear out the infirmary. These here are purebloods and faithful followers, excepting this bitch. But nonetheless, I don't want her around those half-breeds. Put them all back in the barracks. If they die, have them buried. It doesn't matter anymore whether they live or die. Come on, be quick about it. Get some prisoners to help you if you need it," he barked. He spat. "We must get ready to clear them out tomorrow. We're going to liquidate this camp. Those who are weakest are the first into the trains."

Half an hour later they entered the infirmary. He set the woman down on a bed and produced papers signed by Grindelwald himself. He was certainly in charge. He looked at the woman on the bed. He remembered how she looked when they had captured her and her pitiful husband. She had been beautiful. It wasn't surprising that the Fuhrer had taken such an interest in her. But she didn't look it now. Her stringy, damp black hair was matted around her bruised and puffy face. Her lip was split and both of her eyes were blacked and she had bruises all around her neck and wrists.

The healers were awakened and relieved to find purebloods in their charge. They no longer had to pretend to try and help unworthy prisoners through outdated muggle methods. They took out their wands and potions and set to work. When they came to the woman, though, the man stopped them. He looked pensive, as if not quite sure what to do with her.

The guards came to the man standing over the beaten woman. They stood silently for a moment.

"Who is she?" one of them asked.

"This little bitch" he said roughly grasping her chin and turning it towards him, "is the wife of Albus Dumbledore. The so-called most powerful wizard in all of Britain," he said with a small derisive smile, "But tonight, she became the Fuhrer's mistress."

They chuckled at that.

"What are you going to do with her?" one of the guards said.

He reached down, took some of her hair in between her fingers and felt it.

"I don't know. She's a blood-traitor. She is weak. And dark-haired. But she has pale skin. And if her eyes weren't so bruised—and if she were conscious—you would see that she has green eyes. She's not exactly Aryan, but if she was married to so powerful a wizard as those Brits suppose he was—maybe…" he stopped, "I wonder…"

"You there, healer!" he barked.

"Yes?" one of them came over.

"This woman played mistress to the Fuhrer himself. Do you know any fertility charms?"

"What? Do you want to know whether if she is pregnant or if I can make her pregnant?" said the healer looking at her in disgust.

"Both," he said.

"Both," the healer answered, "But the second will take a very long time, especially if she is not ovulating."

"Well, what are you standing there for! Snap to it!" he yelled.

The healer jumped and then unbuttoned the oversized pants and pulled them down around her knees. He cast a charm over her lower body.

"You are sure you want me to do both?" the healer said.

"Yes," the man said still looking at her bruised face, "she may be of use yet."

"We're in luck," the healer said, "She isn't pregnant, but she is fertile. This will make the charms so much easier."

He rolled up his sleeves and began performing the fertility charms.

Two hours later, as the sun filled the sky with light, the healer stepped back and wiped his brow.

"She is with child. I've advanced its growth a few weeks so that I could make absolutely positive she is pregnant," he said.

"By the Fuhrer?"

"Who else? Of course!" the healer said indignantly.

"Good," the commanding officer said.

"I beg your pardon, sir," the healer said, "But why?"

"Why make her pregnant?" he replied, "Grindelwald took her to destroy both her and her husband. What could be more destructive than to make her have the child of her enemy? And now, the Fuhrer has an heir if he wants one. If not, we can always destroy the child. But I don't think that will be necessary. Even if the mother is a blood traitor, the child will be a pureblood. We can always take the child from its useless mother after it is born. I think that he will be happy with my decision. Besides, by keeping her alive, we have bait for her stupid husband. He will come for her and we will be ready. Now," he said turning to a new set of guards, "prepare the camp for liquidation."

And it was so, although Minerva would never know, that her unborn child saved her life.

(A/N: Yes, I know, it's out of order from what I would usually write, (usually there would be a "modern time" chapter here) but I got an idea and had to run with it. I wanted to put this chapter in, because it gives more of a reason for the child to live. It also will help make sense with the future chapters I hope to write soon.)


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